


That Which Destroys Me

by Lovenyx125



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Creature Fic, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied/Referenced Torture, Marking, Mystery, Plot Twists, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Post-War, Power Dynamics, Powerful Draco Malfoy, Powerful Hermione, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Scent Marking, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Soulmates, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:41:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 96,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovenyx125/pseuds/Lovenyx125
Summary: "Mudblood Princess," she breathed out. "Disgraced Prince," he murmured against her pulse. Recovering from their stay in Malfoy Manor is hard enough, but Draco is battling a fatal illness of Voldemort's own design and Hermione may be the cure. Forget salvation, with the way she looked at him just now and the heat that touched him with her hooded gaze, she would be the death of him.





	1. Never Challenge a Malfoy, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I just like to make the characters suffer and do dirty things to each other. Oh boy, here we go. Join me in my plunge into this deep, dark pit where Draco Malfoy plays out my depraved fantasies.

_None of this was my fault_ , Draco thought petulantly. Did he ask for it? Hell no. Was he surprised? Yeah. Well, actually he was Draco fuckin' Malfoy and all Malfoys before him got the same letter. In fact, he was pretty sure all of this was the fault of that crack-pot old fool, Albus Dumbledore. The arsehole probably thought it would be amusing to pair him up with the bane of his existence and watch the anarchy go down before him.

The letter in question, the one which sealed his fate for the next year, was in his mother's clutches as she twirled around the living room, emitting shrieks - albeit graceful and ladylike ones, but shrieks nonetheless - of joy. His father was eyeing her over the top of The Daily Prophet in his hands, assessing whether it was safe to lower his shield. Draco watched her warily as she got closer and closer. Before he could even blink, the mad woman had grabbed him and crushed him against her chest.

"Unhand me, Mother!" he demanded, but his words went unnoticed as she rocked them side to side to the beat of her sobs.

"Oh my baby boy is going to be Head Boy," she cried, letting her tears further destroy any semblance of a hairstyle he had left after her deadly hug. "Finally a Malfoy tradition I can be proud of."

Lucius let out a sound akin to choking and Draco snickered as he tried to imagine the flabbergasted expression on his snooty face. Actually, he didn't have to imagine. He wrangled himself out of the woman's death grip and snuck a glance over her shoulder. The look on Lucius' face was worth it, Draco decided as he fixed his hair and smoothed out his clothes.

"Now, Narcissa, that was uncalled for -" Lucius began to sputter but Narcissa shushed him with a wave of her hand.

"Oh hush now. Our precious Draco is going to restore our tainted name and make his mother proud. Oh my, he's all grown up, my baby boy," she wailed and lurched forward to grab Draco into another hug.

Thankfully, he retained enough of his senses to side step her unfurling talons and hedge towards the doorway.

"If that would be all, Mother, I'd like to return to my wing. I'm expecting Blaise to join me for a game of Quidditch this afternoon."

"Oh but we must celebrate tonight. Mister Zabini can even join us. How about that beautiful restaurant in Prague your father took me to for our anniversary? Lucius? Why are you being so quiet? Your son is Head Boy, just like you were in your seventh year. Aren't you going to give him any advice?"

"Darling, I -"

"Wait, Lucius! It just occurred to me. He's a man now! He'll be graduating in less than a year," she interrupted as another thought hit her. "When are you going to make your mother happy and bring home a beautiful bride. I want grandbabies, young man!" She turned to Draco and waggled her finger. It was his turn to choke and Lucius smirked from his place by the fireplace.

"Mother, I was under the impression your heart was just bursting with joy at receiving this letter," he gritted out after shooting his father a dirty look and composing himself.

"Don't act smart, Draco."

"I was just concerned for your wellbeing, Mother. I wouldn't want your heart to overdo itself with such immense happiness," he said innocently, batting his long eyelashes while a smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth.

"Narcissa, what about -"

"Ah yes, Lucius. Draco, do you have any idea who the Head girl will be?"

If he hadn't been so well trained with hiding his emotions he would've flinched and his parents would've noticed his discomfort right away. As it was, Draco was a Malfoy and had trained under the Dark Lord himself, and so in the calmest voice possible, he said, "I have no doubt it will be Granger."

"Granger?" Narcissa's voice was faint and the smile on her face faded. "Kippy, could you bring us some tea?"

The head house elf of the manor came padding out of the kitchen moments later, his large ears flopping all over the place as he moved. "Kippy broughts the tea, mistress."

Kippy's beaming smile stood out between the ashen faces of Draco's parents. Narcissa gracefully fell back into the sofa behind her and took the steaming cup from Kippy's outstretched arm. Lucius also took a cup but didn't drink from his, instead sitting there with a constipated look on his face. Draco supposed they'd need some time to adjust to the news, just like he had when he'd initially gotten the letter. Of course, they hadn't spent the past six years around the bossy, know-it-all so they shouldn't even be as taken aback. He was the one who would have to share a common room with that bint, not them!

"Isn't she the one…." Narcissa trailed off anxiously, for once none of that regal confidence keeping her put together.

"The one your batshit crazy sister tortured on the floor of this very living room?" he muttered dryly, avoiding the even bigger truth. Granger was more than just the mudblood who was tortured in their living room and checked into their dungeons for an extended stay. Thankfully, neither he nor his parents actually wanted to hear the words out into the open. "Yup, that's her."

"Draco!"

"What, Mother? As if it isn't true. She probably still carries the scars on her body and has nightmares about it every night."

"Draco, what your mother is trying to say -" Lucius began in that patronizing tone of his but Draco toned him out with his own mutterings.

"Merlin knows none of us actually sleep through the entire night."

It was true. When the sun went down, the vast halls of Malfoy Manor echoed the haunted screams of its occupants. The darkness had never truly left, despite all the remodelling his mother did. The grand living room, in which they were currently enjoying a pleasant Sunday afternoon, no longer had dark walls and ancient furniture. The polar bear his great-grandfather had poached and transfigured into a god-awful carpet had finally been removed along with the portraits of their ancestors. They had been relocated to the abandoned South wing, far away so they wouldn't have to listen to the constant yells of "Blood-traitors!"

Draco loved the sage walls with their cream accents and the priceless Wizarding and Muggle paintings that adorned them. All the furniture had been replaced with custom designs from Italy, bringing with it memories of sunsets in vineyards. Despite the warmth and inviting atmosphere the entire room radiated - a testimony to his mother's skills - he couldn't help but recall the horrors that happened here. It may not look the same as it did in his nightmares, but this room had witnessed some of the most horrific experiences of his life. The pained screams of the brave lioness would never stop ringing in his ears, no matter if he was awake or asleep.

"Please, Draco," Narcissa pleaded, "As if I weren't there for the entire awful experience."

"It doesn't matter," Lucius interrupted. "We helped vanquish the Dark Lord. We supported the Order and Ms. Granger is aware of that."

"Doesn't change the fact that she hates my guts," he pointed out, rolling his eyes at their pathetic attempt to mollify the situation. "And I hers."

"Don't tell me you're still going on about the blood prejudice thing."

"Mother, that girl is living proof that all that blood prejudice stuff was a pile of dragon dung. Though, she's still a bossy, know-it-all with morals that she grips tighter than her chastity belt."

"Draco!" Narcissa looked positively appalled.

Lucius scoffed and remarked dryly, "You're still not over the fact that you're only second to her in marks in the entire school?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at that smirk and opened his mouth to give a sharp retort when the fireplace gave a roar. Green flames gave way to a tall, dark-haired Italian and he stepped forward, brushing off imaginary soot from his robes. Arsehole. He knew well enough that the fireplace had been charmed to automatically cleanse anyone who came through.

"Mrs. Malfoy," he crowed, striding over to Narcissa and bending over to brush his lips over her knuckles. "I swear you look younger and younger each time I am graced with your beautiful presence."

Draco scowled at the back of his arse-kissing head and the bastard had the nerve to greet Lucius next.

"Mr. Malfoy, sir," he said evenly and held out a hand for Lucius to shake.

As always, they were absolutely charmed by his presence. You'd think they'd forgotten who their son was and, as such, they shouldn't be so impressed by anyone else.

"Are you quite finished?" he growled as Blaise continued to suck up to his gullible parents.

"Oh, you're here too," he deadpanned.

"Hilarious," Draco remarked with a roll of my eyes.

"I didn't think it was possible, but you've gotten even more dramatic in my absence."

"Ah, yes!" Narcissa interrupted excitedly, "Tell me all about your trip to Australia. You must be exhausted from all the excitement of vacation."

"Oh he's exhausted all right. Just not from excitement," Draco snickered as he recalled Blaise's previous owl regarding the excess of female entertainment he indulged in.

Narcissa's eyes narrowed as she caught on to his words and Draco swore he could see her mouth open in slow motion. You'd think after all these years she would be used to his crude humour. He hurried to save his own arse by grabbing Blaise's collar and pulling him towards the doorway.

"We'll be off now, Mother. Quidditch waits for no one," he called over his shoulder. Then, glancing at Blaise's expression as he walked next to him, Draco snapped, "Get that smirk off your face."

"I just find it amusing how afraid you are of a woman who comes up to your chest."

"I'm not scared of Mother," he scoffed.

"Right," Blaise drawled and coughed out a laugh.

Draco waited a beat and exclaimed with a shudder, "She goes from shrieking with joy to bawling like a goddamn faucet in half a second. It's madness."

"Just wait until you get married. You'll be dealing with the exact same madness on a daily basis," Blaise chuckled, looking entirely too amused.

"Airhead heiresses that are good for nothing but spreading their legs and spending all your galleons," he scoffed bitterly.

"You've known this was your future your whole life. Plenty of time to come to terms with it."

Draco frowned and swallowed the explanation that was struggling to burst forth from his chest. He wasn't a fuckin' Gryffinder. Those maroon morons with their bleeding hearts and disgusting tête-à-têtes.

"Things change," he finally offered in a clipped voice.

"You mean war happens."

Draco looked over at this man who'd been his closest friend for the past seventeen years. If he really had to give anyone the title of best friend, it would be him. Blaise knew him too damn well and he put up with all the shit Draco gave everyone around him. Anyone else would be afraid to stand up to him, but this motherfucker had no qualms about telling him to get his shit straight.

"Do we have to talk about this?"

"Even if I have to get you drunk," he said with an arched brow. "Some shit has been going on with you for the past few weeks, but you won't let anyone see. I gave you time. I get that the war fucked you up. It fucked all of us up. But I'm not going to sit back and watch my brother self-detonate."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the gall of him. Blaise returned his cold look with a firm one of his own.

Finally, Draco let out a sigh. "A game of Quidditch first. And then the alcohol."

* * *

"And I thought, 'Why not, you take everything else the wrong way."

The two roared with laughter, falling back against their armchairs. The sun had barely set and they were already drunk off their asses. Several empty glass bottles littered the table before them, blinking at the light from the chandelier above. Foolish grins lit up the haughty looks their Slytherin-bred faces permanently supported.

"Our sense of humour is kind of fucked up, Draco," Blaise admitted after they'd been quiet for a minute.

Draco snorted and tilted his head back, chugging the remaining contents of the bottle in his hands. "I figured that when you started the joke with 'So I asked this witch for anal sex.' "

That prompted another fit of sloppy laughter.

"The world is spinning," Draco sighed and said grimly. "But it's a bloody relief…hell-it's…now…now my head is spinning. For once, I can just stop - just stop thinking and stop thinking and stop-"

"Do you ever feel your soul screaming at you?" Blaise blurted out, interrupting his word-vomit.

"Uh - I think so?"

"No, listen. It's just wailing and then sometimes it wraps it's hands around my neck," he muttered. "It's trying to punish me for being alive."

"Zabini, why do you insist on killing my buzz?" he groaned.

"Stop being a pussy, Draco."

It was hard for him to take Blaise seriously, even in this state, when his words came out slurred.

"Fine, I feel it too okay. I can't wait to go back to Hogwarts and get away from these toxic memories," he gritted out, every cell in his body screaming for him to shut up and raise those walls. _This is just Blaise,_ he told himself firmly. _He's the only one you haven't scared away. Better make sure he sticks around._

"I can't even imagine the sort of fucked up shit you've seen with the Dark Lord as your roommate."

He held back a scoff. Blaise didn't know even the half of it.

Dark ocher eyes flashed across his mind.

"I get nightmares," Blaise whispered darkly and Draco's chest tightened. "I'm no bloody Gryffindor and so I'll say this."

Draco waited as his companion inhaled sharply and let out in a steel voice, "I'm scared to let myself sleep."

It isn't until nearly thirty minutes later, when soft snores filled the room, that Draco finally unclenched his muscles.

"Me too, Blaise."

* * *

"Draco!" Blaise called out just as the whistle of the train let out a warning shriek.

The platform was ridiculously crowed with idiots, who clearly cannot tell time, running around frantically. _Peasants_.

"Until next time," He nodded at Mother and then gave Father a pointed look. The bastard better keep her happy.

Draco boarded the train and followed Blaise down the corridor, eyeing a particularly nasty batch of first years complete with their snivelling noses and big, loud mouths. He opened his mouth to tell Blaise to _stupefy_ any first year that got in the way, but instead choked on roses. Er, the smell. Not actual roses. Just as the painfully sweet aroma started to caress his senses, a pleasurable hint of cardamom floated by. His eyes drifted close to the hot pinch of cinnamon wafting over him and he was done. Snitch. Broomstick. Crash.

A jerk in his abdomen swirled him around and tugged painfully. Like cooing for her lover to join her in bed, the entrancing smell drew him close. He stumbled around and - oompf -nearly collided with a bird's nest. A really soft bird's nest. His hands gripped the shoulders of the petite figure that was bent over clutching her head.

"What the hell?"

He flinched at the familiar voice and winced as she nearly whipped him with her hair when straightening up.

"Who - Malfoy?" she yelped, jumping back in surprise. His fingers barely moved when she tried to pull away and she stared up at him with wide almond eyes. They both glanced down at his hands, which were still holding her.

He slowly let go, taking his time as he released the probably angry witch.

"What is your problem, Malfoy?" Granger yelled and narrowed her eyes.

Yup. Most likely angry.

"Good morning, Princess," he purred, smirking as he gave her another once over.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she caught the motion and blood rushed to her cheeks.

A shrewd red rose.

"Well it was until you came along," she growled and in his peripheral, he could see her reaching for her wand.

His hand shot out and wrapped around her thin wrist. Merlin, did this girl not eat?

"No need for such measures. We're all _friends_ here," he murmured, his voice getting huskier near the end.

It was incredible how one small change made such a stark difference. Her bushy nest that she called hair was now a mess of silky curls. It was still kind of bushy, but it had been tamed into a wild sort of beauty. His hand twitched with the urge to run his fingers through those thick locks and pull just hard enough to entice a moan from the witch.

He had to admit that he did not see her dainty little foot coming and yelled in shock as she stepped on his foot with all her strength, which was not much actually. He barely felt a sting.

"Don't you dare, arsehole," she growled.

He leaned down until his face was inches from hers, staring into her furious eyes with his own icy gaze.

"Never challenge a Malfoy, Darling," he snarled.

He turned on his heel and headed towards the Slytherin compartment. Without looking back, he called over his shoulder, "I'll meet you in the Prefect's carriage an hour before we arrive."

He heard a shriek when realization hit her and he laughed under his breath. Surprisingly, she hadn't noticed the badge pinned to his chest.

The last little bit was his own small piece of retaliation. Don't punish the harpy, but give her a little something to agonize over. Potter and Weasley would shit a galleon when she told them the news. His lips curled into a satisfied smirk. At least something came out of the mess that was Dumbledore's twisted sense of humour.


	2. Hollowed Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione begins to notice how much the Malfoy Heir has changed since all those months ago together in the dungeons beneath his ancestral home and Draco endures the consequences of surviving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter…unfortunately.
> 
> You'll be getting a glimpse of who Draco Malfoy has become in this and I know it might be confusing to see where I'm going with them, but I promise there's a path in place. Even the remarks Ginny makes are crucial to the plot. I'll let you get started but let me know what you think after! Muah!

Hermione's lips puckered into a frown when she turned to see Malfoy step into the Prefects' compartment. He had pulled his school robes on and pinned the Head Boy badge to his chest over it. She hadn't noticed before in the corridor, but instead of being slicked back as it had been for the past six years, his hair was carefully disheveled. Far from the limp mess it had been when he'd been staying at Headquarters, all those months ago, now it urged her to run her fingers through the silk locks. With his careless swagger and complete disregard for rules, it was unbelievable to her that somehow he'd managed to procure the role of Head Boy.

She blinked and bit her lip nervously when she realized she'd been staring at him for a moment too long.

"Bookworm," he nodded in greeting.

"Ferret," she replied coolly.

Damn. Practically civil.

"How the hell is he Head Boy?!" Ron yelled angrily from his place next to Ginny. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Weasel," Malfoy sneered. His lips curled into a smirk when he noted the redhead's balled up fists. "Must hurt to know that your precious Headmaster favours me over you. No surprise there, of course."

"You may have convinced Dumbledore you've changed, but you're still the same poisonous scum," Ron growled.

"Ron!" Hermione interrupted, cutting off whatever insult was on Malfoy's lips. The last thing she needed was hexes flying around the crowded room. "Both of you stop it so I can get this meeting started without bloodshed."

Malfoy stepped closer to her and shot a smug look at his red-haired nemesis.

Hermione's ignored the fact that their shoulders were nearly touching and instead took a deep breath before smiling at her peers.

"Hello, everyone! As you've all probably know by now, I'm your Head Girl for this year and Mal -"

"If you haven't figured out that I'm the Head Boy then you're too stupid for that Prefect badge," Malfoy interjected, ignoring Hermione's glare. "Just don't ask any stupid questions or I won't hesitate to jinx your face off."

"He's joking!" Hermione added quickly, eyeing Malfoy with disapproval. "The students all look to you for support and advice, and in turn, you have us if you're ever in a stitch. If you need to find us, we should be in either the library or our Heads' common room. We'll also be holding tutoring sessions for the younger students and should you wish to also help out, let us know."

"Your main duties will be patrolling in the evenings and we'll be drawing up schedules for your shifts. If you make it onto your House Quidditch team, let us know so we can try to accommodate you."

"What? No," Hermione argued, rolling her eyes. "Your responsibilities as a Prefect come first and foremost. Quidditch -"

"Granger, just because you're an insufferable, know-it-all swot doesn't mean everyone else is too," Malfoy drawled, his lips pulling up into a sneer. "Some of us have actual hobbies, you know?"

Hermione glared at him icily and looked over at her friends to find them frowning at her. Ugh. She should've known they'd pick Quidditch over her, even if it meant agreeing with the bloody ferret.

"Anyways, we'll be posting the patrol schedules in each of the house common rooms by tomorrow night," she continued.

Draco kept a look of utter boredom on his face while she spoke for the next twenty minutes, dropping it occasionally to add a sarcastic remark. Every few minutes, his gaze wandered towards her and he watched carefully for any sign of what had drawn him to her so suddenly in the corridor. Just thinking of it made him shudder. Him? Draco Malfoy? Attracted to the infuriating Granger? As if! A temporary lapse in judgement, he assured himself. The only thing he remotely liked about the witch was her ability to keep up with his insults and retort with some witty ones of her own. Still, the incident earlier had left a chill down his spine.

The moment they concluded the meeting, Malfoy swept out of the compartment without a word. Hermione watched him leave with a furrowed brow. His behaviour was nothing new but she expected him to at least slip in an insult before leaving. Blaise Zabini nodded at her before following his friend out and Pansy Parkinson followed suit with an accompanying sneer.

"That fucking bastard. I can't believe Dumbledore made him Head Boy," Ron snarled when he came over to her with Ginny and Luna.

"I guess all the help he gave the Order counted for something," Luna mused with a faint smile.

"Well he is the Slytherin Prince and popularity does matter a bit when it comes to picking the Head Boy," Ginny pointed out, reaching out to pat Hermione's shoulder comfortingly.

"Give it a rest, guys," Hermione muttered and gave them what she hoped was a reassuring smile when they looked at her dubiously. "We can't change anything so might as well deal with it."

"You'd think he'd be nicer considering everything that happened."

"I think that was the nicer version of Draco Malfoy," Hermione said dryly.

"More importantly, did anyone else notice how much more ridiculously sexy Malfoy has gotten?"

"What - Ginny?!"

Hermione laughed when she saw that Ron's face matched his hair.

* * *

 The atmosphere at the Beginning of Term feast was decidedly more lighthearted than it had been for the past couple years. Hermione watched her best friend laugh into his goblet of pumpkin juice without the tightness around his eyes that she'd become accustomed to. The threat of Voldemort was gone for good this time and now The-Boy-Who-Lived could finally…live.

"I love you, guys," she said abruptly and her two best friends looked startled for a moment. Deciding her random declaration was justified given the vibes of nostalgia that plagued their return to Hogwarts, Ron and Harry returned the sentiment by pulling her into a hug over the table.

"Ahem, could I have everyone's attention once again, please?"

She nearly knocked over her goblet as she made to sit and turned to face Professor McGonagall with a soft smile. This year's first years looked tinier than she ever remembered her and her friends being. They huddled together, big, anxious eyes glancing around the Hall with palpable excitement.

"Coco, Glenn."

A mousy, blonde girl scurried up to the stool beside McGonagall and shoved the hat onto her head. The hat gave it a few seconds before yelling out, "Ravenclaw."

"Vane, Iris."

The dark-haired girl was sorted into Gryffindor and Harry groaned as the spitting image of his admirer, Romilda Vane, winked at him before taking a seat a couple spots down.

"Mahoney, Issac."

The boy who carefully made his way to the front of the Hall looked an awful lot like Harry did at his age and Hermione noted the intrigued look on Harry's face. Based on the smirk on the little boy's face, she wouldn't be surprised if he were graduated into Gryffindor. Poor McGonagall, this one looked like it would be a part of another generation of Marauders'.

Issac kicked his heels against the legs of the stool as it contemplated his house, but after a minute his grin dropped.

"Slytherin."

The Hall fell into a heavy, muffled hush as students either gaped at the paling boy or whispered amongst themselves. Hermione gnawed at her lower lip anxiously when she picked out the words, "Death Eater," and, "Evil," from the crowd. Issac was frozen on the spot and looked like he was about to run back to the train. She looked at the Headmaster anxiously, hoping he would step in. Or even McGonagall, since she was standing beside the teary-eyed boy. Out of her peripherally, a figure got to his feet and when she turned to look, her mouth fell open.

Malfoy's jaw was tight and his lips pressed into a thin line as he strode up the tables to where the quivering first-year stood. She recognized the glint of anger in his eyes, but watched with surprise as he schooled his features into gentle reassurance before bending over to whisper to Issac. Then straightening up his full height, he nodded at McGonagall before steering the boy towards the Slytherin table with his hand resting on his shoulder. Her view of Issac was disrupted as the other younger Slytherins swallowed him into their fold, their expressions tense as they silently dared anyone to speak up.

"What's the git playing at?" Ron muttered furiously, his thick brows knitted in confusion.

Hermione shrugged slowly, still trying to reconcile the Malfoy she just saw with the one she'd known for the past six years. It wasn't too difficult, considering the amount of time she'd spent with him at the height of the war and the circumstances of their situation then.

"Something's different about him," Harry said quietly, his eyes trained on the stiff blond listening to Zabini. "I know the war changed us all, but how crazy would it be if it changed him for the better?"

"Harry!"

"Oh come on, Hermione. You know I don't mean it like that. I know we're all better off without having suffered through the war, but just imagine if he's a tolerable son-of-a-bitch instead of just an arrogant arsehole."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up. He's itching to pick a fight with Ron."

"You lot are really blind, you know that?"

The three of them pulled their heads away to stare at Ginny, who'd apparently been eavesdropping this entire time. She rolled her eyes at the annoyance on her brother's face and explained matter-of-factly, "Haven't you seen, he's gotten an awful lot taller."

Ron groaned and turned away from her. "Ignore her. She's just mad after blokes."

"I'm observant, not boy-hungry," she cried exasperatedly. "He used to be a couple inches shorter than you, Ron, and now I bet you anything he's a good 6'3"."

An image of meeting Malfoy's chest as he towered over her in the train flashed in her mind and she nodded. "I think Ginny's right, you two."

" _Thank you_ , Hermione. Now please tell my brother and his equally obtuse friend that instead of being one of the most good looking guys at Hogwarts, Malfoy is now easily the most gorgeous."

Ron choked on his pumpkin juice and Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Hermione focused her gaze on the boy in question and had a startling realization. Malfoy was all man now. Gone were his pointy features, leaving in place a ruggedness that shot up the temperature in the room. She remembered the smattering of dirty blonde hair on his chin and that sharp jawline that could cut through stone. Just like back on the train, her eyes were attracted to his hair and she smiled faintly at the beautiful mess. Sometime during the war he had stopped gluing his hair to his scalp with gel - there was probably a business owner somewhere out there going into loss - and let it grow out so that it fell just past his ears. His ribs no longer stuck out painfully and his lean body seemed to have taken on some muscle mass, but he was still a bit on the skinnier side. If it weren't for the purplish bruises under his eyes or the exhaustion in his bones that seemed to weigh him down, he would be shockingly gorgeous. Despite all that, he was still a striking wizard and Hermione had a feeling he would be the hottest guy in Hogwarts even if he showed up wearing a trash bag.

"Bloody hell!"

Hermione jumped and jerked her head to meet Ron's glare head on.

"What?" she hissed when she saw the goblet she'd knocked over. Harry pulled out his wand to disappear the liquid that was quickly spreading.

"Her - you…ugh, you were staring at Malfoy!" he yelled, catching the attention of the rest of the hall. McGonagall paused in the middle of announcing a name and sent him a severe look over her spectacles.

Hermione flushed red and buried her face in her hands to avoid the eyes of her fellow students as they snickered and whispered amongst themselves. She peeked through her fingers and let out a squeak when she caught Malfoy's eyes. He was smirking and raised his goblet to her, letting out a short laugh when she shot him a glare.

"Thanks a lot, Ron," she grumbled as the sorting resumed.

She studiously avoided looking over at the Slytherin table throughout the entire feast and glared at Ron every time he tried to get back to their previous conversation.

"Now that our bellies are full and we've caught up with the friends we missed in the chaos of the past couple months, I'd like to take a moment to say a few words," Dumbledore called out, his voice bringing down silence and his eyes twinkling with happiness. "Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds and any student caught endangering themselves as such will face severe consequences. Also, a complete list of the rules that we must abide as our code of conduct can be found in his office, if any of you wish to peruse it."

Hermione caught Harry's gaze and suppressed a giggle.

"Our final order of business, I have the honour of announcing this year's Head Boy and Head Girl…Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger," he announced and gestured for the two aforementioned students to rise. "They have earned their badges as the top two students of their year and for the loyalty they've displayed to their peers, their houses, and Hogwarts as a whole."

Hermione flushed with pride as she stood to the deafening applause that followed Dumbledore's words. She met Malfoy's eyes as he smirked, his demeanour haughtily smug in light of the praise. The Slytherins were cheering mainly for their Prince, an unacknowledged fact, but it would take more than a war to eliminate the house rivalries.

"Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, please come see Professor McGonagall. The rest of you head off to bed, you should be well rested for your first day of classes. I wish you all pleasant dreams!"

McGonagall was silent as they followed her out of the Great Hall, save for the occasional reprimand to a dawdling student. The Heads common room, which changed location every year, were located down near the dungeons. Hermione could only hope they wouldn't be as cold and depressing as the Slytherin dorms. She was already missing the warmth of the roaring fireplace in Gryffindor tower and the cozy sofa before it that she used to curl up on.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

The portrait of King Arthur glowered down at them and the black stallion he was perched on reared it's head.

"These are the two Head students for this year," McGonagall gestured to the two teenagers standing behind her and then turned to them. "You'll need to agree on a password and change it frequently."

Hermione looked over at the blond who was standing back with his hands in his pockets and avoiding meeting her gaze.

"You're probably going to disagree with anything I come up with so you choose."

"Now where's the fun in that," he remarked, straightening up slowly and keeping his eyes fixed over her shoulder. "Cornua serpentis."

"Wings of the snake?" At this, Draco looked at her questioningly. "Latin is one of the languages I'm fluent in."

He nodded slowly and gestured for her to follow McGonagall through the portrait hole first.

"Keep in mind that you need to knock thrice, say the new password, and knock twice."

A wide smile graced Hermione's face as she looked around at her home for the next ten months. The decor was a strangely perfect mix between the Gryffindor common room and what she imagined was the Slytherin common room. The dark fireplace, with a panel of white marble beneath the mantel, was ornate and towered over a collection of armchairs. Warmth emanated from the crackling blue flames, which matched the deep colour of the walls. There was a small kitchenette with dark wooden cabinets on the right and just past it was an alcove with a magicked window. It was charmed to look out over the Great Lake even though they were underground. Hermione could see herself curled up there with a good book and a cup of peppermint tea. To the left was a spiral staircase leading up to a narrow balcony that spanned the back wall. The balcony housed two black doors, one adorned with silver linings and the other with gold.

McGonagall settled into a blood red wingback armchair, a silent indication for them to follow suit.

"The both of you are the best in your year and you each have a certain reputation within your houses. That and given the roles you played in the war, it is no surprise that you've earned those badges. Rightfully so." She eyed them carefully and continued when they remained silent, "You are to set an example for the other students and it is especially important in these uncertain times."

"Professor?" Hermione gnawed at her lower lip, recognizing the worry in her Head's voice.

"The Wizarding World was shaken by the Second War and now everyone is looking for stability. Our students will look to the staff and their Head Boy and Girl for reassurance of this new world. Our goal is to set the future in stones of unity and peace. What better way than to mend the animosity between houses, between Gryffindor and Slytherin?"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Malfoy beat her to it.

"Do you really think it's that simple, Professor? Centuries of enmity erased by a show of friendship? This - this partnership…tutoring students and prowling down corridors together, celebrating all the points we docked off the Hufflepuffs and the detentions we handed out, all this! Do you think it's enough to make a bloody Gryffindor go 'Damn, our princess seems awfully cozy with that handsome git, Malfoy. Maybe he's not a dirty great snake like we all stupidly presumed.'"

Hermione gaped at the seething boy across from her and realized that in his own harsh way, he was right. He didn't underestimate how big of a feat was needed to fix the way things had been between houses, in the past decades especially.

"I don't expect miracles, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall's stare was sharp enough to make Hermione flinch, but Malfoy stared back defiantly. "I expect a conscious effort on your part to behave in a manner absent of prejudice."

He snorted and muttered loudly, "Easy for you to say when you weren't raised to…as a Malfoy."

The silence that followed his bitter words was uncomfortable, to say the least. Draco was staring into the fire, avoiding their concerned looks. McGonagall's interest barely stretched past her precious Gryffindors and never did it extend to include a Death Eater. As if either of them cared and even then, the last thing he needed was their pity.

"Malfoy and I will do our best," Granger spoke up, ignoring the sudden glare he was shooting her.

"Very well. I'm sure you've read the list of duties expected of you and I trust the both of you to devise the prefect schedule. Make sure both sign off on the monthly schedules and I'd like it if the pairings consisted of two different houses."

"Makes sense," Granger mused and he noticed her eyes flit towards him nervously.

Did she expect an outburst out of him?

"For now, that is all, but I'll be checking in with you at the end of the week."

McGonagall left an uncomfortable silence in her wake and Draco found himself looking everywhere but the brunette sitting just a few feet from him. It took him a moment to realize there was no reason for him being there. Nothing was forcing him to sit, endure, and converse.

"So how -"

She spoke at the same moment that he rose to his feet and he froze mid-action. He turned his head to find her biting her lower lip and watching him carefully. He kept his face blank as he nodded at her and strode across the room. He climbed the spiral staircase and paused at the the green door.

"Time for bed, Princess. You wouldn't want to be scaring people with that awful complexion and matching raccoon eyes, now would you?" he called over his shoulder without looking back and slammed the door behind him.

Leaning back against the door, he took in the sight before him with wide eyes as the room suddenly flooded with light. Up against the dark sea green walls was a large wrought iron four poster bed with a miniature metal dragon perched on the left post at the foot of the bed. The dragon looked up at him for a couple seconds before returning to preening his scales. His study table was set up with his school books and a calendar detailing all his Head Boy commitments and assignments to come. His trunks had been unpacked with his clothes set up in the walk in closet and his regal eagle owl was waiting on her perch by the window. The window itself was open, letting in the cool night air without which Draco couldn't sleep. He nodded at Athena, who gave a soft hoot before stretching her wings and taking flight out the open window.

"Master Draco!" A high-pitched shriek accompanied a loud crack as an absolutely tiny house elf appeared in the centre of the room. He barely glimpsed the oversized bat-like ears before they dived at him and twig arms wrapped around his legs. He peered down at the house elf that was sobbing into his robes and surpassed a sigh.

"Anya, please control yourself," he requested quietly as he patted her small head. "One would think you actually missed my cold, dead heart."

"Master thinks he's so amusing," she cried, peering up at him with electric violet eyes. "Master shouldn't make jokes in such bad taste."

He cracked a smile and remarked, "I've got to give you a chance to keep me in line, haven't I?"

"Master is good to Anya, so good." The petite elf stepped back and snapped a finger to clean his wet robes. She reached up to grab his sleeve and he allowed her to pull him towards the bed. "Anya unpacked Master's trunks and changed his sheets to the silk he loves so much. Anya also brought over Master's metal beast from his bed in the Manor."

He watched with a fond smile as she disappeared into the closet for a moment, returning with a pair of black silk pyjama bottoms. With the bright pink ballerina dress, she looked like a fairy out of one of those muggle children's books. Albeit, a big-eyed, ugly fairy.

"Master must change and prepare for sleepy-time. The witch Master is sharing with is still in the common room so he should use the bathroom now. Anya will bring Master hot almond milk and his book from last night."

She disappeared with a another loud crack, but when he exited the bathroom a few minutes later, she was waiting by his bedside. He settled against his headboard with a book in one hand and a mug of steaming milk in the other, while Anya stood by with a satisfied look.

"Does Master need anything else? Would Master like Anya to conjure him a fireplace?"

"I'll probably end up sleeping on the couch by dawn," he mused, a bitter smile crossing his lips. "Thank you, Anya. Where would I be without you?"

"Where would Anya be without her Master?" Anya retorted, biting her lip anxiously and shaking her head furiously. "No! Master should not talk like that. Anya be scared without Master."

The one good thing that came out of being Head Boy was his very own dormitory. The other boys, despite being friends - and obedient followers - of his, wouldn't understand the strong attachment Anya had to him. More so, they wouldn't understand his tolerance for her clingy behaviour or the gentleness with which he treated his tiny house elf. No self-respecting pureblood gave even a second's consideration to his house elf, and here Draco was indulging her likes, dislikes, and fears. Blaise was the only one who knew about Anya and that was simply because he was always over at the Manor.

Anya waited until he was done his milk and gently chided him into putting his book away. He agreed mostly because he knew he would have plenty of time to finish it before breakfast. She tucked him in, like she'd always done when he was younger, and smoothed back his hair.

"Anya wishes Master all the good dreams in the world. Master deserves it."

"The universe clearly doesn't agree with you."

Her large eyes were pained with worry because even she knew her wishes were futile. Draco had tried everything at his disposal - a considerable amount of resources - and yet he suffered each night. Even the strongest Dreamless Draught and Draught of Peace money could buy had been rendered useless and only served to trap him in his nightmares for the entire night.

"Master is so strong."

"Get some rest, Anya. I'll call on you if I require anything."

Before now, Anya had always stayed at the Manor while Draco was away at Hogwarts and it suited him just fine. Now, he craved the smallest amount of comfort and welcomed the familiar softness of the lullaby she hummed. His eyelids slipped close and he drifted into unconsciousness to the warm touch of her hand on his forehead.

_Draco's eyes snapped open moments later and a horrified gasp escaped him at the sight of his surroundings. The secure walls of Hogwarts had given way to the cold marble of the Manor. His body was weak and threatened to give way from where he was kneeling on the ground. Every inch of him ached all the way down to his bones and sweat lined the unnatural paleness of his skin._

_"I'm disappointed, Draco. I was under the impression you wished to serve your Dark Lord and prove your loyalty to our noble cause."_

_"Always, my Lord," he gasped, keeping his eyes trained on the black boots before him._

_"I have a special task for you. With this you will not only atone for the sins of the father, but you shall surpass even my oldest friends. With this, I shall know if you are befit inheriting my throne."_

_"My Lord?" Any second now, his heart would burst from the excess of fear pulsing within it._

_"Do not tell me you haven't realized yet what all those private training sessions were for. I do not take just anyone under my wing. You have great potential," he drawled, sneering down at the pale boy. "I see a piece of myself in you, Draco."_

_"Thank you, my Lord," the meaningless words dripped from his lips like poison._

_"Your aunt and I have devised a plan and you are the key. Your utmost dedication and loyalty is needed for the new world we shall create. Your role will be pivotal for ending this war once and for all. With Muggles in their rightful places, just beneath the blood traitors, we can shape the future I've spent decades preparing for. This is just the beginning," the Dark Lord announced._

_Yeah, it was, Draco thought bitterly. This was just the beginning of all the pain he'd have to endure. If Aunt Bella had a direct hand in play then nothing could protect him. He'd have the endure. This was just how the Dark Lord measured loyalty._

_"Before we begin, I must know how far you would go for our cause, how far you would go for me," the powerful wizard's voice was a mere sliver of ice, carving wounds down his spine and dabbing more fear into them._

_"As far as it takes to serve you well, my Lord," Draco muttered and still his mouth fell open in silent horror as his master raised his wand._

_"Again, and remember, pain is just in the mind._ Crucio _."_

_Every second of this scorching pain felt like a decade of being stripped down to the bones as his skin was ripped out. His blood boiled and frothed under the surface, burning him from the inside out. Every cell in his body prayed for death, for mercy. Pain may be in the mind but he was losing his head. The venom burning through his veins like acid had him falling onto the cold marble with a groan as he struggle to control his spasming body. Somehow, through the red haze of pain, he could sense a figure approaching from behind with her wand raised._

Draco's body sprang to life with painful contortions and ear-splitting screams. With his bedsheets caught up in his twisted limbs, he flailed all over the bed before toppling over the edge. Slamming down onto the hard ground was a wrench into consciousness and he gritted his teeth at the pain flooding through his aching body. It was a downright relief compared to the pain in his nightmares and he welcomed it graciously. Anything was better than being back there.

He rose to his feet and strode into the bathroom. A shower was customary after this sort of night, the hot water scorching down his back like a soothing balm. If he screwed his eyes shut and scrubbed viciously at his skin, he might just be able to rub all the wretchedness off. His memories seeped poison, infecting him each and every night. Even now, after his skin had turned pink from being scrubbed raw, he felt remnants of fear clinging to his body.

The common room was empty and dark, the sun having not risen yet. The fire had died down to glowing embers in the hearth and he gave it a swish of his wand to bring it to life. He crept through the shadows casted by the fireplace and took a moment to peruse all the cupboards in the kitchenette. Anya had set up a variety of his favourite snacks into his half of the cupboards for moments just like these. He took a brief moment to consider the bottle of firewhisky in one hand and the hot chocolate mix in the other. The hot chocolate, which had been imported from a coveted Swiss chocolatier, won out and he pulled out a saucepan to heat the milk. Only peasants drank hot chocolate with water. The hot chocolate mix was a thick syrup, primarily melted chocolate of the most exquisite dark oaky flavour.

He eyed Granger's door warily, as if expecting her to come bursting out screeching about all the noise he'd made with his nightmares and then his fiddling around in the kitchen. Anya had probably noticed that he'd forgotten to cast a _Muffliato_ and done so for him. Usually, he couldn't be bothered to care if his noisemaking was bothering anyone else, least of all Granger, but the last thing he wanted was her to notice his unstoppable shivering and the haunted look in his eyes.

"Can do without seeing that bushy head of hers for a couple hours," he muttered to himself as he cast the spell.

His muscles protested as he consistently stirred the simmering liquid and nearly cried with relief when he crossed the room to settle into an armchair. He welcomed the warmth of the flames washing over him and _Accio_ 'd his book to complete the image of serenity. Curled up against cushions with a warm drink in one hand and a good book in the other - no one would ever suspect the torment swirling within him.

By the time he finished his book, dawn had begun to rise and he had no intention of taking a nap before class. Instead, he pulled out a piece of parchment and swore to himself this was just so he wouldn't have to spend more time with the bucktoothed brunette. He could just see the annoyed and suspicious look on her face when she finds out that he'd taken the liberty to draw up the Prefects' schedule without her input.

The sun had crept in through the window and across the room just as he checked over his work. Staring out at the clear pink sky, he made a split-second decision and throwing the paper onto the table, rushed into his room. He could hear Granger waking up and stumbling into the bathroom as he hurried back down the stairs and out the common room. The halls were empty at this early hour, just the way Draco liked it, and even the Great Hall only had two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff. They watched suspiciously as he grabbed two pieces of toast before slipping out.

He found himself drawn to a large willow tree that loomed over the edge of the lake and conjured a blanket at the base of it. Nibbling on the edge of the toast, he stared across the dark, calm waters. Something about the subtle danger of this large lake called to him, it yearned to drag him under. He almost wanted to let it.

If he weren't so hollow on the inside, if his soul weren't as stained, if he weren't raised with the poise of a Malfoy - then maybe, just maybe, he would've dared to allow the tears to fall. As it was, he was Draco Malfoy and he'd be damned if he let himself tear up like a Hufflepuff out where anyone could see. He didn't come so far, didn't bottle up so much pain, for his efforts to fall into shambles along with his dignity. If there was one thing he excelled in, it was compartmentalization. So there he was, gathering up all the fear and agony into a dusty glass bottle and placing it on a shelf in the back of his mind. All that remained of his nightmare was the ache in his bones and the sallowness of his skin. With that, he dusted off nonexistent crumbs - as if a Malfoy would allow a single morsel to befell his person - and headed back inside the castle.


	3. A Fracture in the Facade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a DADA lesson takes a wrong turn and Draco Malfoy continues to fight a memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter…unfortunately...or my soul mate, Draco Malfoy.

He sauntered into Transfiguration, moments later, with his usual mask of cool nonchalance in place. He refused to allow his emotional irregularities to impede on his life. He had a plan, a path of success he had mapped out since before he started at Hogwarts. His fellow Slytherins looked up to him and his Malfoy charm was far as anyone else was concerned, Draco Malfoy was untouchable and his presence impeccable. As far as he, himself, was concerned, Draco wouldn't allow himself to break.

"Where were you at breakfast?"

Draco sneered at Blaise's question and ignored him in favour of pulling his quill and textbook out onto the table.

"How am I supposed to know the difference between when you're sulking in some creepy corner of the castle and when you're actually offing yourself by chucking yourself off the Astronomy tower?"

"Malfoys don't take their own lives. It's unbecoming." He sniffed.

"Malfoy!" A shrill voice interrupted their conversation with the slam of a paper onto the table before Draco. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Of what? Your chewed-down nails and atrocious skin care?"

"You know we're supposed to figure out this schedule together. Stop trying to undermine my authority!"

"Granger, I thought you were the brightest witch of your age?"

"I am!" She glowered at him.

"Then you should've realized what I'm doing here."

"And what is that?"

"Quite simple, actually. You are an annoying little bitch when it comes to your books and theoretical knowledge. I, on the other hand, am highly skilled at analyzing people and their person. I know just which personality to put with which to create the ideal situation in my favour."

"You're an arrogant arse, that's what you are."

"Come on. You know I'm right. Use that big brain of yours."

"Fine, you might be a tad good at reading people, but next time, consult me beforehand. I won't have you showing me up by trying to trip me in my tracks."

"Me? Show you up? Never!" He batted his eyelashes at her and she huffed.

"Ms. Granger, take your seat," McGonagall said, coming up behind Granger. "I'm sure your conversation with Mr. Malfoy must be absolutely riveting, but I have a lesson to teach here."

Draco chuckled under his breath as the girl blushed lightly and hurried to her seat. She was stupidly brave, that one, and yet she got embarrassed from such a little thing.

In Charms, his head wouldn't stop pounding and that idiot Weasel wouldn't stop whispering like an uncivilized ape to Wonder Boy. Blaise had to hold him down from hexing his poverty off. Finally, Draco slipped away from Blaise with lies about forgetting a book in the common room when lunch came around and instead headed to the library. He was feeling particularly queasy after the measly bit of breakfast he had and figured it would be best to give his stomach a rest for now. He felt a bit like the Queen Swot by getting started on his homework barely hours after receiving it and it was discerning. He found himself on a lumpy couch in the back of the library that felt like heaven to his aching body and worked away.

It wasn't until his brain started getting fuzzy with exhaustion and he barely heard the bell signalling the start of Defence Against the Dark Arts did he sluggishly made his way out of his corner. He was the last one to walk into the classroom but Lupin still held out his hand with a warm smile. He could feel the eyes of his classmates burning a hole into his back, especially those of the golden Trio's, but he focused on the brave man before him. Lupin had been a huge support during his recovery and had gained Draco's utmost respect with his strength. Draco had in turn used his connections to get Lupin his old job back without a public backlash. Even back when he hated the half-breed, Draco had grudgingly admitted that he was the best DADA teacher they'd had.

"How are you doing, Draco? Teddy misses you already."

"As always. I'm looking forward to seeing him at Christmas. Or maybe you could ask your lovely bride to bring him down for a visit."

"I bet she'll love that idea. I'll have her fix up a date."

"Splendid. And good luck, Professor."

The Troubled-Threesome were close enough to the front to have heard his words and gasped at the appropriate times. He resisted the urge to sneer at them for their ridiculous amount of surprise over the fact that Draco Malfoy could be civil with someone. The fuckers didn't even understand the Wizarding World enough to realize that a Malfoy's respect was like the blessing of a King.

"Welcome to Seventh Year Defence Against the Dark Arts and I hope you've got your wits about you. As the senior students here you will be facing more difficult concepts than ever before. If you study hard and apply yourself, I have no doubt you'll succeed in achieving your N.E.W.T.S." Lupin sat on the edge of his desk and looked out at the war-hardened faces of his students. "For our first class, I'll be testing all of you to see where there are holes in your education, what with your inconsistent teachers. I think Muggles would call it a revolving door of teachers and that definitely applies to the current situation."

He had them follow him up to a large, empty classroom on the fourth floor, where he had set up an obstacle course of sorts. There were two creatures from each year from third year onwards, starting off from a Hinkypunk waiting in a wide patch of ferns.

"I'd like to make it absolutely clear to everyone here that the Boggart portion of your assessment is voluntary. Choosing to not have your worst fear out in the open before all your peers doesn't make you weak and so don't be afraid to let me know. I have an alternate written essay for those people, but I must impress upon you the importance of this exercise. You've all survived a vicious war and experienced horrors most people cannot even fathom. It will do much good for you to see that your peers are more than just the house a centuries-old hat chose for them. Every one of you in this room are human, no matter if Slytherin or Gryffindor. Everyone has fears, regardless of how brave they are or the amount of control they possess over their emotions. Each and every one of you has a bit of courage in them, a dash of intelligence, a pinch of ambition, and a touch of loyalty."

Draco held back along with Blaise, Theo, and Pansy, having seen the Boggart ahead and having no desire to have everyone's attention on their worst fears. The Gryffindorks were the first to rush forward, their constant desire to show off making them blind idiots.

"This is going to be a fucking mess," Theo muttered. He threw Lupin a dirty look and shuffled forward to tackle the Hinkypunk.

"Whose genius idea was it to have a bunch of war survivors face their worst fears in front of a crowd?" Pansy scowled, but beneath her irritated expression her face had paled.

"Lupin wouldn't be able to watch the rest of us if he put the Boggart in a separate room," Blaise pointed out. "And Boggarts come up nearly every year in our curriculum so it isn't like he can skip over it. Draco, mate, you alright?"

Draco nodded tightly and watched as, across the room, the Boggart morphed into an Inferi before Potter. The entire room had paused to watch the Boy Wonder up against his worst fear. Draco's nausea gave a jolt when he realized the Inferi looked a lot like his late cousin, Sirius Black.

"Ten points for originality," Pansy muttered, crossing her arms across her chest.

"It might not be a bad idea for you two to put your ego away long enough to make it through this ridiculous class in one piece," Blaise suggested lightly, his gaze flickering between Pansy and Draco. "Neither of you are looking too good."

"Fuck that, I'm not ashamed," she snapped, and pushed past Blaise for her turn with the Hinkypunk.

"I'm living in a neverending nightmare, Blaise. What's a little audience?"

Despite his confident words, Draco's stomach plummeted deeper and deeper as he got closer to the Boggart. The other obstacles were a breeze for him since when you have nothing to do but wait around to be killed, you read a fucking lot of books. Before Voldemort took a very personal interest in him, Draco spent all his time in the Manor's library.

He was snatching his ankle out of the reach of the Dugbog he was facing in the small, enclosed, portable marsh when he noticed the volume in the class die down again. This time it was Granger who was up against the Boggart and he doubted her fear would be bad grades again. He barely noticed the way his hands were shaking or the sharp gasps of air he took as the terrifying form of his dead Aunt cackled at Granger.

"Draco, no!" Blaise hissed and grabbed his arm when Draco tried to move forward. "It's not real. She's safe."

_She's safe. She's safe. She's alive._

The words reverberated in his mind and it was all he could do to hold himself back from running to check on her. Her screams echoed in his ears, even long after the present-day Granger had transformed his aunt into a giraffe. Blaise had him take a seat at the side while they watched Pansy and Theo tackle the Boggart. The looming figure of Theo's father was terrifying in its own right, but he had to suppress a chuckle when Pansy's worst fear turned out to be being a Malfoy trophy wife. Slytherin's, especially, hated the vulnerability that came with their worst fears being revealed, but they also refused to show any sort of embarrassment. Pansy huffed and flounced over to where they were seated.

"No hard feelings, yeah?"

"The horror is mutual," he assured her with a wink. If he just behaved like his normal self, then maybe the bludger shooting around in his stomach would go away.

"This section is optional," Lupin reminded him when Draco walked up to the Pygmy Puff in a wedding gown that Pansy had left in her wake. The Boggart waited for a few seconds and then began to contort into the red-eyed demon that haunted his sleep. He could hear the confused whispers of the other students as they tried to figure out why they were looking at two Draco Malfoys. There was sharp intake of breath as a dark-haired girl appeared on the floor, lying face down with bloody gashes running down her back.

"You don't have to do this, Brother," Blaise tried to tell him but his words were cut off as Boggart-Draco spoke up.

"Filthy little mudblood."

"Draco, step away," Lupin tried to step in, but his words barely registered.

" _Crucio_!" Boggart-Draco snarled.

Draco swallowed down bile as the horrid memories flashed before his eyes. His blood had turned to ice and tremors shot down his spine. It was like he'd woken up from his nightmares to find out that he was actually still asleep. Her screams sounded just like they did in his nightmares, he realized sickeningly.

"Professor, stop this. Please."

The soft plea broke through the red haze that had begun to descend around him and he looked over to see Granger being held back by her two friends. What was she doing there? Wasn't she supposed to be convulsing on the floor? Indeed, when he turned back around he saw the witch on the floor was beginning to cough up blood. She looked up at him with those tantalizing chocolate eyes begging for reprieve - for death.

"Draco, please," bleeding-to-death-Granger cried.

"It's not real," very-much-alive-and-sobbing-Granger choked out. "Professor, please, stop him."

"Draco, that's enough, son." When Draco remained frozen on the spot, looking sickly pale and as if he were seeing something the rest of them couldn't, Lupin called out to the class, "Could everyone please go wait outside. Right away!"

Everyone was reluctant to leave, not wanting to miss out on seeing the stone-cold Malfoy break down. Pansy took it upon herself to shoo them all out, leaving behind the three Gryffindors, Blaise, and Theo.

"How could you do this to me, Draco? You promised," barely-alive-Granger whispered. "You swore you'd never become like him."

"It's not fucking real, Brother. She's alive. She's safe," Blaise growled, grabbing him by the elbow and jerking him around. Draco's gaze was unfocused as he fought to cling to reality. "It's over. You survived. That son-of-a-bitch couldn't have you. You're in one piece, mate."

"Fuck," Draco said harshly.. "Sh-she's…Blaise, she's -"

"Alive. She's alive."

"But I saw-I saw him kill her. He wanted to break me. He-"

"He didn't kill me." He heard the quivering whisper come up from behind and felt her slip her hand into his. "He's dead. He's gone."

The red haze rose out of sight and left behind a bitter aftertaste. He barely felt himself being pulled away from the horrid copy of himself and the dying girl he couldn't save. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he acknowledged that the real Granger was gripping his hand tightly and didn't bother trying to get away from her. It didn't matter. In the end…she would still be there. She haunted his torturous dreams and then he'd open his eyes to find her still there. He would never be able to escape the reminder that was her existence.

"Breathe. Inhale - one, two, three four."

The gaudy, dark room of the Manor shimmered in and out of focus. He became aware of the tight grip Blaise kept on his forearms.

"Hold for one, two, three."

His chest burned and the hole where his heart should be ached in ways that made him want to scream.

"Exhale - one, two, three, four, five. Let it out."

The screams died out with one final roar and he sagged against his friend, his muscles burning from the tautness they endured without end.

"Make…make it stop," he muttered, feeling the weight of gravity pressing down on him.

"Wh-what? Where does it hurt?"

He turned his head to meet Granger's big, doe-like eyes that glistened with tears. She had always looked especially pretty when crying. Her skin was flushed and her lips were plump from her nervous biting. A broken angel.

"We're going to levitate you to Madame Pomfrey," Blaise told him, his face impassive but Draco recognized the worry in his friend's eyes.

"Where does it hurt?" Lupin interrupted, leaning over Granger's shoulder. "So we can avoid jostling that part."

"Draco?" Granger reached out to touch his cheek when he didn't answer. Draco turned his gaze back onto her and smiled bitterly.

"Everywhere." He coughed and winced when his lungs burned at the effort. "Don't levitate me."

"Draco -"

"And someone get those losers out of the hall. I won't leave this room with a fucking audience waiting to gawk at me."

"Draco, li -"

"Everyone stop looking at me like I have some fatal illness. I'm fine now."

"MALFOY!"

Draco blinked and stared at her blankly.

"Can you stop acting like nothing happened?" she hissed, her temper beginning to rise like the blood in her cheeks. "You're not bloody okay and that doesn't make you weak."

"Lu - Professor, I insist that I'm very much alright now. Nonetheless, Blaise will accompany me to the Hospital Wing."

"You're impossible!" Granger threw her arms up in the air. "Harry, make sure the hall is clear. Zabini, let's get him up."

"Excuse me?" Draco interrupted, pulling his arm away when she reached for it. Ignoring the hurt that flashed in her eyes, he blurted out, "No."

"What?"

"You can leave. I don't need your help."

"You'll be singing a different tune when you pass out halfway up the staircase."

"Don't be stupid. Malfoys don't faint."

He ignored her outstretched hand and instead used Blaise's shoulder to shakily pull himself to his feet. He swayed once he was upright and from the corner of his eye, he saw Granger's hand twitch towards him. There was only one way to get rid of her and a small part of him hated having to do this.

"Get the fuck out, Granger. I'm not your pet project like that bloody SPEW," he snapped and smiled viciously when she recoiled. "I don't need saving, least of all, by a mudblood."

She flinched and her eyes narrowed dangerously. He could practically see the steam coming out of her brain as she tried to work out the actual meaning behind his words. Unfortunately for her, she would would be very disappointed. He would make sure of it.

"Oi, be fucking thankful, you prat. She's trying to help," Weasel retorted.

"If your precious princess really wants to help and be a goody Gryffindor, she can start a charity for your family. At least then you won't be such a fucking disgrace to the Wizarding World."

"You're the Death Eater here. You're the bloody disgrace," Weaselbee yelled as his face turned the same colour as his hair. "Come on, Hermione. He's not fucking worth it."

_He's not fucking worth it._

Clearly, she agreed, because she followed the dunderhead duo out without a backwards glance. Draco ignored the slight twinge of hurt and instead willed his stomach to settle itself.

"Was that really necessary?" Lupin said, the disappointment clear in his voice.

"I already have a mother. I don't need another keeper," Draco muttered.

He tried to walk to the door, but halfway there, his legs began to give out. He'd forgotten Theo was also in the room until he appeared at Draco's side to help him stay upright. He let Theo keep close to his side, ready to grab him if he started to fall. Too many times had they been in a similar situation, except with the roles reversed. Having known each other since they were born, Draco often helped bring his friend back from the brink of death each time that Theo appeared at the Manor with his body beaten black and blue. He'd seen Theo at his lowest, and so he returned that trust by allowing his friend to see him so weak.

Blaise stayed at his other side and Lupin followed up behind. When Madame Pomfrey caught sight of the small procession, she ushered the boys to help Draco to an empty hospital bed and Lupin stayed back to explain the situation to her.

"You had a panic attack, Mr. Malfoy," she told him once she'd heard everyone's account. "It's very common with survivors of the war. Have you had one before?"

"Yes," Draco said after a moment of hesitation.

"And do you know what triggered it then?"

"I - uh," he struggled to find the words to explain what was going on with him. Never before had he admitted his weaknesses to another and the idea of spilling everything right there was daunting.

"He doesn't sleep," Blaise cut in, pointedly avoiding the glare Draco was sending him. "His mother said the house elves noticed that he's been spending every night in the library."

"Is this true, Mr. Malfoy? How much sleep do you actually get?"

Draco sighed and looked up at the ceiling as he spoke, "Three hours at most."

"Anything else? I can't help you if you hide your problems from me," Pomfrey said sternly. "Do you want your friends to leave? If you don't want to say in front of anyone else…."

"We'll come back before dinner," Theo said before Draco could make a decision.

"Tell her everything, mate. If not for yourself, then your mother. She's been owling me all summer, worried sick about you," Blaise added, raising his eyebrow when Draco's eyes widened in shock. "You Malfoys are damn good at keeping secrets from each other."

"I'll go plan my next lesson," Lupin started to say, but Draco cut him off loudly.

"No, wait!"

Lupin shut his mouth and stared at him in surprise.

"You can stay," Draco said lamely.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Lupin said slowly.

Draco didn't respond, but he knew Lupin understood the unspoken explanation. Lupin had been the one to vouch for Draco's life back when Granger had shown up at Headquarters with his nearly-dead body. He remembered the confusion he felt in midst of the agony he was in - why would a half-blood mutt he'd gotten fired be defending him to the nest of redheads and the rest of the Order of Phoenix. The Weasel had been particularly vehement about letting him die and Granger had been taken away by the Healer. With no one to defend his dying ass, Draco was sure everyone would take Weasley's side. Even Boy Wonder had been considering letting him die instead of spouting off some saintly Gryffindor goodness bullshit. Yeah, all lives matter, unless you were Death Eater scum. In the end, it all came down to trust. Despite what the other houses believed, Slytherins were the most loyal of the bunch. Sure, everyone spoke with double meanings and collected secrets on each other. However, being ostracized by the rest had created an unrivalled loyalty that was unfathomable to a non-Slytherin. His house understood the value of trust better than anyone else, especially the idiotic Gryffindors who inexplicably trusted everyone. Lupin vouching for Draco had earned him a Malfoy's trust and more importantly, a Malfoy's life-debt. Malfoys didn't take those they trusted with low regard and Draco respected the strong, intelligent man, his pseudo-mentor.

"My symptoms vary routinely but days where I'm feeling like myself are far and in-between," Draco explained quietly, his eyes trained on a spot just above Pomfrey's shoulder. "Constant panic attacks, nausea, headaches, body aches, the occasional fever, and chills - I get the pleasure of suffering in every way possible."

His eyes flickered to the side and he saw that while Lupin's frown had deepened, he seemed to be in deep thought.

"I see, and how long has this been going on?"

Draco swallowed hard and muttered, "Sometime after the nose-less bastard moved in."

Pomfrey's face fell and she nodded absently. "That's…that's not surprising. Is there a possibility you were cursed?"

"You think this is a curse?" Draco's heart was beating painfully now.

"I don't know, Poppy," Lupin interrupted, stepping forward and crossing his arms over his chest. "Curses usually aren't this ah…detailed."

"I've seen some bizarre and nasty curses in the past year. It could very much be something new," Pomfrey said. "I'm almost certain it isn't a potion, but I'll do a couple tests."

Draco stayed quiet as she waved her wand over him continuously for the next twenty minutes. He was absolutely sure now that he'd made the right decision. Asking for help was something he'd only done once before and it hadn't ended as well as he'd hoped. He still didn't believe that the price he paid for his freedom was worth the agony he suffered, but he also didn't think this situation could get any worse.

"As I thought," Pomfrey said, shaking her head as her wand glowed light blue as she held it an inch above his heart. "There's no trace of any foreign substance in his body."

Lupin's eyebrows were knitted together and his voice was low as he asked, "Draco, were your symptoms this severe to begin with or has it been getting worse over time?"

"No, well, it only got this bad - oh!" Draco's eyes widened and he said in a strangled voice, "You think it might be…."

"What if you never fully recovered and after being brought back from the brink of death," _wince_ , "your condition just worsened?" Lupin wondered. "Would it be okay if I told Poppy what happened?"

At Draco's nod, he turned to Pomfrey and explained, "A few months ago, Draco was brought to Headquarters in a near-death state. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, and he was experiencing frequent aftershocks of the Cruciatus curse. His back had been slashed open and nearly every bone in his body was broken. Most disturbing, though, was that a lot of his blood had been drained."

Draco couldn't look at the horrified expression on Pomfrey's face and instead leaned over the side of his bed to throw up into the bucket that had been conveniently placed there.

"Fuck me," he muttered before scourigfying the pail.

'Oh dear," Pomfrey whispered, clutching at her chest and looking as if about to burst into tears. "What did those monsters do to you?"

"They should be calling _me_ The-Boy-Who-Lived," he snorted, but then sobered up with a shake of his head. "I think you may be right."

"If this is indeed a curse, it's out of my hands," Pomfrey said apologetically. "I can give you something to deal with the symptoms."

Draco shook his head. "I've tried nearly everything, but the nightmares still persist."

"First off, we need to confirm whether this is a curse. For that, I'll bring in a curse breaker and we can go from there," Lupin said, nodding to himself. "Perhaps you should see Professor Snape for that. He may know of some obscure potion or be able to modify the Draught of Dreamless Sleep."

"It's worth a try," Draco agreed and then turned to Pomfrey, schooling his face into the picture of innocence. "It's very likely I'll be dead before the month ends and I would very much like to spend my last few days as painlessly as possible."

"I'm not supposed to give my students a box of regulated potions, Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey warned him, though her eyes were soft with pity.

"I got Outstanding in Potions for the past six years, but the last time I tried to brew a Painless Potion I ended up convulsing in white-hot pain for an hour," Draco said simply and when she quickly turned on her heel, he smirked.

Of course, he had to endure a long lecture on the danger of becoming addicted to any of the assorted potions she handed him and the moral responsibility he was now - apparently - obligated to. Then again, Malfoys didn't have much time for morals.

"Come, I'll write you a note for the class you missed. Am I correct in assuming you won't be attending Muggle Studies this evening?"

Draco nodded shortly. He wordlessly followed Lupin to his office, hesitating when handed the piece of parchment.

"Professor," he began and then promptly shut his mouth.

"Draco?"

"What - what if this isn't a curse?" he asked quietly, staring down at the chipped corner of the desk. "And we don't know what's happening to me? All that effort put into saving me and then I die in the end anyways."

_He's not fucking worth it._

"I don't think this is a curse."

Draco's eyes slipped close.

"But I also don't think you're going to die."

He began to shake his head and protest, but Lupin wasn't finished.

"It seems like your body is fighting. Back at Headquarters, you had a fever for two weeks straight and the Healer wasn't sure if you would make it. Even now, you said you got the occasional fever, yes? This nausea and aches could be a side effect to your body fighting an infection of sorts."

"But Pomfrey said my blood is clean," Draco pointed out, ignoring the irony of his statement.

"No, I don't think this is the traditional sort of infection. Dark magic is unpredictable and as you know, leaves scars if it can be healed at all. You have the scars of the gashes on your backs and considering how difficult they were to heal, it's a sign that some sort of dark magic was used and the remnants of it prevent the skin from fully healing. What if that's only a small fragment of the dark magic still residing in your body and all of this is because your body is fighting for control? It's like your body is trying to purge itself, physically and mentally. You're unable to keep food down and the pain that won't go away is the toll it's taking on you."

"And the nightmares?"

"You're very vulnerable at the moment, while your body is otherwise occupied. It could be your mind forcing you to endure your worst memories again and again. Either to come to terms with it or it could be a part of the dark magic trying to torture you in every way possible."

"There's dark magic in me?" Draco croaked out.

"We don't know yet. This is only a theory and there's a few holes too. It could be anything, honestly."

"I see. I - I should be going."

"We'll figure this out, Draco. Try not to dwell on -"

"On my imminent death? Sure, sounds easy," he snapped and tossed the strap of his bag over his shoulder before turning on his heel.

"Draco," Lupin began, but Draco paused at the door to call over his shoulder.

_He's not fucking worth it._

"Thank you, Professor. Hopefully, today wasn't for naught and I don't croak before you can implement your shiny, new syllabus."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that little peak into the sticky situation that Draco is in. Please leave me a review letting me know what you thought. Constructive criticism is really appreciated. Thank you! xoxo
> 
> P.S. Follow me on Tumblr for updates and other TWDM content @kissyourdemons


	4. More Than I Deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione is hell bent on getting answers and Draco wishes she would leave his nightmares be.
> 
> _"I could've died right there in her arms and that would've been more than I deserved."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter…unfortunately.

To say Hermione was furious would be an understatement. That much became clear to everyone within a one mile radius to her angry tirade. The Gryffindors edged away from her uneasily and the Slytherins on the other side of the Herbology greenhouse stared suspiciously.

"Rude, obnoxious ferret -"

Ron gestured to Harry frantically.

"Oh, I'll gut him like a fish -"

"Uh, Hermione?"

"How dare he…ooh bloody insensitive git -"

"'Mione…um."

"You try to help an idiot and he bites your head -"

"HERMIONE!"

"WHAT?!"

"Calm down?" Harry squeaked out.

"Calm down? _Calm down_?" Hermione laughed derisively. "Are you seriously telling me to calm down, Harry James Potter?"

"No? Yes?" he answered weakly.

"Did you see what happened back there? I tried to be nice and help the poor sod and he pulls a typical Malfoy and verbally abuses me! Ooh, the nerve of some people."

"Come on, Hermione. Did you really expect Malfoy of all people to be nice? Thankful?"

Hermione looked her best friend in the eyes and let out a deep breath before admitting, "I did."

"Aww, 'Mione," Harry groaned.

"What? You know why…sort of."

"For Merlin's sake! I hate to say this, but the Malfoy you met back in the Manor…he's never coming back."

"Harry -"

"People do crazy things when they're about to die and that's exactly what that was. The git knew Voldemort was gonna off him any day and just lost it."

"How can you say that? You know what it was like. He saved my life!"

"And then you saved his."

Harry looked like he had a whole lot more to say, but at that moment, Madame Sprout called for their attention.

"We'll finish this later," he hissed.

Malfoy never showed up to Herbology or Muggle Studies and when Hermione went back to the common room, she was disappointed to find it empty. She debated with herself at his door for ten minutes before giving in to impulse and knock sharply. He either wasn't there or he really didn't want to see Hermione. The latter was pretty likely, in any given situation, honestly. She considered waiting for him in the common room because he eventually had to come back to his room, but she also knew that he was expecting her to hound him. She should back off for a bit and then pounce when his ferrety-senses least expected it.

Hermione headed up to Gryffindor tower and was happy to be back in her home for the past six years. She especially missed the coziness of the Gryffindor common room and the fond memories she had there. Just like countless evenings in the past, her best friends were sitting in front of the fireplace and playing chess.

"Where'd you run off to after class?" Ron asked in greeting.

"I went to grab some stuff from my room," she answered, plopping down onto the couch and pulling out a book.

"I thought you'd be working on our charms homework," Harry mused. "Rook to E5"

She rolled her eyes and said, "There's more to me than homework, you know. Besides, I finished it during lunch."

"Why'd you do that?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose and scowling. "That's extreme, even for you."

"I have so much more on my plate. Heads duties are going to be taking up a huge chunk of my time so time management is of the essence."

"Oh yeah and that git will make you do his share of the work too."

"I don't know what McGonagall was thinking, appointing him Head Boy of all things," Harry said, grimacing when Ron's knight took out his rook.

"Actually, he drew up the prefects' schedule before breakfast." She was biting at her lip, looking thoughtful as she thought back to the moment she found the parchment sitting on the coffee table. He'd left it on top of her Transfiguration textbook, ensuring that she'd find it.

"He probably wanted to make sure him and his slimy friends had the best shifts," Ron sneered, but then brightened up considerably. "Checkmate."

Harry groaned and turned away from the game, letting all the pieces recuperate before they could start another round. "As much as I hate to bring this up -"

"But we all know you love obsessing over anything and everything Malfoy does," she piped up, a mischievous grin curling her lips.

"HA!" Ron barked gleefully. Turning to Harry, he said, "She got you there, mate."

"What? Never!"

"Harry, you spend every year harping on about one thing or another that you suspect he's done. 'Oh, Malfoy is the heir of Slytherin. Opened up the Chamber of Secrets, that he did. Oh, Malfoy has a better broom than me. Oh, Malfoy is making badges that say I suck. Oh, Malfoy is an evil git. Oh, Malfoy is a Death Eater."

"Oh, fuck off," he muttered, turning away as Ron burst in a fit of laughter.

* * *

Draco followed Blaise and Theo through the entrance of the Slytherin common room with a scowl on his face. They were heading to their usual spot in the corner when a voice piped up.

"Mublood-lovers aren't welcome."

It was a fifth year, stepping forward with his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him, three other people were wearing similar looks of contempt.

Draco arched a brow and sneered, "Such big words. Don't hurt yourself."

"You're a disgrace to the name of Purebloods."

"In case you've been living with your head in the ground for the past year, the Dark Lord personally taught me his favourite curses and I will _not_ hesitate to demonstrate them all to the next person who pisses me off," Draco snarled and sent the idiot flying backwards into the wall without even raising his wand. Rumours of his skill with wandless magic during the war had reached the halls of Hogwarts and the infamous Malfoy vicious streak was a thing of legend in the halls of Hogwarts.

The rest of his housemates had been watching with careful reservation, waiting before deciding to align themselves with the victor. If they were hoping he would give up his throne, they were very much mistaken. He relished being the Slytherin Prince and the power that came with it. It was unfortunate but there would always be cockroaches waiting in the shadows, watching for any crack in his armour. Yet, each time his authority was challenged, it only served to assert his power even more.

"You're certainly feeling better," Theo said, after casting a quick _muffliato_. He eyed Draco carefully.

Draco shrugged and settled into the sofa by the fireplace, leaning his head back. Despite the tall green flames cracking in the hearth, the Slytherin common room remained as chilly as ever. There was a damp coolness in the air and his already feverish body shivered even more. His eyes constantly fluttered close for a couple seconds too long, but he forced himself awake each time.

"How long are you going to avoid Granger?" Blaise asked.

"As long as she continues to poke her swotty nose into what is clearly not her business."

"Seems unlikely," Theo snorted.

"Sadly, yes."

"She was off her rocker in Herbology. Lucky you weren't there or she would've strangled you, I reckon," Blaise remarked.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "How… _muggle_ of her."

"Maybe I should get a familiar," Theo mused after a moment of silence.

Draco arched a brow at him.

"It would be a fun sort of hobby, don't you think?" he continued, ignoring the looks they were exchanging. "Ooh, I would even get to name it."

Blaise choked out a laugh.

"I think I read somewhere that miniature sphinxes are a thing now. So very in, yes, even Narcissa Malfoy would approve," Theo said and nodded to himself.

"Why on earth would you want a sphinx of any proportion?" Blaise wondered.

"And for the record, Mother would most definitely not approve," Draco added, rolling his eyes when Theo scowled. "They're known for coughing up furballs and no self-respecting wizard would allow such a deplorable act."

"Why do you want a pet anyways?"

"If you must know," Theo shot Blaise a dirty look. "Anastasia Stone just released a new calendar spread. Bloody beautiful. She poses with a different familiar for each month."

Draco held back a laugh at the starstruck look on his face.

"Isn't she hanging upside down from a tree, next to a green flying gnorish, this month?"

"Why do you know that?" Draco gaped at Blaise.

"I woke up in the middle of the night for a drink and screamed when I saw it stuck on the wall next to the door," he muttered, shuddering when he remembered that he stubbed his toe and fell back on his arse when he saw the garish image with the greenish-blue translucent light of the lake shining on it. He'd nearly pummelled Goyle in his sleep for leaving open the window curtains."

Draco snorted and said, "I'm all the more thankful for my own room. Worst case scenario would be Granger snoring loud enough to break through a _silencio_."

"If she even has to _silencio_ her room," Blaise pondered, but then shook his head. "There's no way that girl is sleeping peacefully enough at night."

"Do girls even snore?" Theo wondered, looking around as if a member of the opposite sex was going to pop up from behind the couch and scream, "Fuck yeah, you arse!"

"Maybe just the muggle ones do," Blaise added and Theo nodded in agreement.

"She's a bloody witch," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Salazar! Someone call Pomfrey. Don't worry, Draco, we'll find a solution to this mind affliction," Theo assured him, reaching over to pat his hand.

The glare Draco shot him would've had anyone else pissing themselves.

"Don't you give up, dammit!" Theo grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "We'll find a cure! Fatal, my arse!"

"Merlin, someone ought to put a leash on you." Draco pushed him off and straightened his robes with a frown.

"He makes a fair point," Blaise added. He simply looked bemused. "You wouldn't have said that two years ago."

Draco shook his head and stared ahead at the green flames of the black marble fireplace. He was a thousand miles away from this place, months back in time. His voice took on a haunted, hoarse quality as he spoke quietly, "You didn't see what she was like, back at the Manor. So stupidly brave. She looked Aunt Bella in the eyes, after being crucio'd repeatedly, and lied. Lied to the face of the most unstable and powerful dark witch."

Theo and Blaise were silent, watching him carefully. When he brought his eyes back up to meet theirs, those grey orbs were brimming with anguish at a memory he relived every night. His already pale complexion had gone sallow, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more. It didn't escape their notice that his hands were clasped tightly in his lap, the muscles of his arms taut with the effort of keeping them from shaking.

"I swear I could feel her magic crackling around her. Sweet Circe, no amount of torture could break her will. That level of defiance, you cannot fathom. I doubt any other witch could've survived in her place, forget a muggle." He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. He knew his friends were tense and trying to figure out when to stop him from spiralling too far back into his chest of horrors. "When she touched me, her hands were shaking and they were so cold. She placed her skin against mine and _fuck_ , I could feel the warmth of her magic. I was probably delirious, as one knows that happens on the brink of death, and her hands! Merlin, her hands are so tiny. She's so small…so fragile. But that's the thing. She looks like a feather could knock her over, but the sheer strength of her will kept her going. She was so determined. She actually believed her precious Order would save her. Told me she wouldn't let me die in the dungeons of my own home."

"Draco," Theo started quietly at his pause, but Draco didn't seem to have heard him.

"I could've died right there in her arms and that would've been more than I deserved."

* * *

At dinner, he risked being seen after this afternoon's ordeal. He knew Granger won't dare approach him in public with such a delicate matter. She may be bossy, but she definitely had more tact than both her idiots combined. He didn't dare keep his head down - he was a Malfoy, after all. Instead there was a vicious sneer on his cold features the entire time, glaring down anyone he made eye contact with. Between his throwing scowls and death threats, Pansy managed to coax a few spoons of soup down his throat and he, in turn, pretended he didn't see the relieved smile on her face. He could tell that today had truly rattled her, something that wasn't easily done with Pansy. Pansy, who found him curled in on himself on the floor of the seventh year boys' bathroom after his stomach tried to purge his system of the memories haunting him. Pansy, who ignored the cruel words he spewed at her to send her away. Pansy, who instead forced a Calming Draught down his throat and held him while he broke down into painful sobs. The way she fussed over him and the shaky smile that graced her lips gave away just how daunting it was for her to see her strongest friend so broken. Draco had always been the one with the impenetrable disposition, ever so regal and intense. He stood tall, his aristocratic pedigree shining through his impeccable manners and expensive tastes. To see Draco with cracks in his armour, with actual fear in his eyes, was harsh awakening for Pansy. If the unbreakable Malfoy could be…broken…then what hope did the rest of them have?

He could feel Granger's sharp eyes on him as he rose from the Slytherin table, but Blaise, Theo, and Pansy immediately flanked him, sticking close to him as they left the hall. The funny part was that he'd never told them to, but being the loyal Slytherins they were, they understood from his little outburst in the common room that the swotty little witch was detrimental to his health.

"Are you sure?" Pansy asked him for the tenth time since he told them he would be sleeping in his own room tonight. "I don't trust the mudblood to not badger you when you're like this."

"She's too much of a moral snob to kick him when he's down," Blaise pointed out.

"If you had a familiar, it would protect you from unsavoury people," Theo told him matter-of-factly.

Draco scoffed at the idea of needing protection from the temperamental Head Girl. He wouldn't deny that she could pack a punch, but in the past couple years he'd grown into an imposing figure. He towered over her and he had no doubt he could throw her around like a rag doll.

"I'm not scared of a little girl," he said firmly. "I could be on my deathbed and still be able to snap her in half with my bare hands."

"You _are_ on your deathbed," Theo said, looking at him oddly.

"Technicalities," he muttered. Pansy opened her mouth to argue but he squared his shoulders and snapped, "Quit it, Pansy. Go find someone else to smother. I'm not a child."

"No, you're a dumbass who needs to stop finding new ways to get himself killed," she hissed before turning on her heel and stomping away.

"She's just worried about you," Theo tried to offer quietly.

"I don't care. I don't need anyone's pity or help."

He regretted the words the minute he closed his bedroom door behind him and surveyed his bed with trepidation. Logically, he knew there was nothing his friends could do reduce even a smidgeon of the pain he experienced every night. At least, there was nothing they could do that he hadn't done before. Being a Malfoy meant he had access to things other people didn't even know existed. He had gone through an assortment of expensive potions that were hard to procure and even took an international portkey to Tibet to see a vampire monk who specialized in the demonic possession of the unconscious mind. He wasn't sure how his nightmares tied in with the body pains and nausea, but Draco was certain that they weren't normal. Waking up screaming because it felt like your blood was boiling and your bones were on fire wasn't normal. Reliving the worst days of your life every time you closed your eyes wasn't normal.

_She was staring at him. Again._

_She had been watching since they dragged his convulsing body into the cell next to hers but had yet to say a word. He pretended he didn't know she was merely five feet from him, but they were both very much aware of the fact. He broke out into a coughing fit and winced when he saw the fresh blood splattering the stone floor. He was probably the first Malfoy to bleed out on the floor of his own dungeon. His face screwed up in pain, he pulled himself into a seated position against the cold wall and gingerly rested his head back. He wanted to survey his injuries but knew he couldn't move a muscle without screaming in pain._

_"Why?"_

_Maybe if he didn't answer, she would think he died and ignore his corpse?_

_"Malfoy," she tried again._

_Persistent little bitch._

_"I know you can hear me."_

_"Fuck off," he muttered._

_Of course, she being who she was, asked, "Why?"_

_"Why did they betray me? Why did they torture me?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Has it ever occurred to you that they didn't turn on me?" he sneered, annoyed at not being able to turn his head to glare at her. "I'm doing the Dark Lord a service. It is an honour."_

_Even to his own ears his voice sounded rehearsed. Monotone._

_"What? Are you his pureblood sacrifice?"_

_He flinched. Then decided to go back to ignoring her._

_"How are we going to get out of here?" When he didn't respond, she raised her voice, "Malfoy, help us!"_

_"Keep your voice down, you bloody harpy," he groaned, wishing somebody would just_ Avada _him. "You're giving me a fuckin' headache."_

_"Don't you want to get out of this cage?" Her voice got even shriller. Lovely._

_"No, you stupid bitch," he snapped. "Now shut the fuck up so I can die in peace."_

_A sharp gust of wind hit him from the side and he opened his eyes to find that she had disappeared. So had he. He was staring up at that chandelier Mother had made in France for their Sage living room. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the fact that the room no longer smelt like fresh sage occurred to him. He was suddenly very much aware of the heavy pressure on his chest and then recoiled with horror when a giant snake head rose to just inches above his head. It looked down at his face and Draco swore he could see it sneering with hunger. A scream rose and died in his throat when he realized this huge, dirty snake was wrapped around his entire body._

_"Come now, Draco. Surely the Malfoy heir is stronger than this. Generations of marrying those of the purest blood ought to have paid off."_

_Torn between struggling out of Nagini's tight grip and crying out in fear, Draco simply clenched his eyes shut and tried to clear his mind. The faster he complied with what the Dark Lord wanted, the sooner this ordeal would end. They would toss him back into his own dungeons and leave him to rot for another couple days._

_"Clear your mind of everything, focus inwards," the Dark Lord's voice was like a cold needle being pushed into his brain. "Narrow in on your breathing and the sound of your own heartbeat."_

_In any other situation, Draco would've had to hold back from snapping that he couldn't hear his own heartbeat, but it was pounding against his ribcage loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear._

_For a few minutes, he followed as the Dark Lord's whispers dictated and each time that it slipped his mind where he was, Nagini would clench. He was pretty sure his Lord enjoyed seeing him flinch with fear every time._

_"Our last attempt wasn't as fruitious as I wanted, but I hope you shall redeem yourself this time. Bella, would you kindly step forward and cast the spell."_

How am I supposed to accomplish something when I don't even know what it is that you want me to do _, Draco thought bitterly. Luckily, he was highly accomplished at occulmency, even more so than the Dark Lord himself, and didn't need to worry about him catching his stray thoughts._

_"I've made a few adjustments, increased the intensity, I think you'll find. Bella, you may begin."_

_He wasn't prepared for the onslaught of pain that hit him hard and sent him reeling backwards into his own mind. He was crashing through all the walls he'd built, destroying the labyrinth he'd been constructing since he first started learning occulumency at the age of eight. He finally came to a halt when he smashed into a white marble peacock statue in one of his dead-end clearings designed to trap anyone trying to navigate his maze._

_He stumbled to his feet and cautiously eyed the entrance to the clearing. It was the only way out of this dead-end, but he also knew that the moment he tried to step across the threshold, an icy jolt of pain would shoot down his spine._

_"Come on, Draco," he whispered to himself, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that the walls were closing in. He had designed this particular trap with special attention to details such as this one. If he didn't find a way out of this place, he would be driven insane in his own mind by a trap he had created himself. Ah, irony._

_Shuttin_ _g his eyes,_ _he willed himself to close off any thou_ _ghts and focus on his spatial awareness. He could feel the energy pulsating from the towering hedges around him and even the shattered statue behind him. This was his life force, vibrating excitedly around him. Everything before him was an extension of himself, like another limb._

_"Ri_ _ght, I need an escape route. One that only I can find or destroy. Something elusive," he decided quietly._

_A hidden trapdoor would be too easy. Perhaps a portkey? Maybe a coin buried in the ground. Or even a … -_

_"RAWWWRRR!"_

_The labyrinth shook with the force of the roar, turning the remains of the broken statue to dust. With a grace he didn't even know he possessed, Draco managed to stay standing when another deafening growl rocked the maze and the ground beneath it. That thing, whatever it was, was getting closer._

_"Shit, shit shit," he muttered furiously, clenching his eyes shut and pressing his palms against the sides of his head. He could hear the monster stomping down heavily and could practically feel the angry bands of energy emanating from it as it moved. "Focus. Fuckin' hell. Focus!"_

_When he sensed the chaotic energy turn the corner and come to a stop just a few feet ahead of him, he let his arms fall limply to his sides. Summoning all the tiny pieces of courage he ever had, Draco opened his eyes and glanced up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read TWDM and I hope you enjoyed it - just as much as I enjoy reading your comments :)  
> Please let me know what you thought of that! I could really use some feedback, it'll be much appreciated.


	5. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Disgraced Prince continues to be haunted by his stay in the Malfoy dungeons with the Mudblood Princess.
> 
> _"You may be just a filthy little mudblood, but no one who's seen you claw your way through our world for the past six years can say that's a bad thing." He tried to convey with his eyes everything his words couldn't. He damn hoped she understood, because he highly doubted either of them would be making it out of here alive for him to explain again. "Wear it like a crown. Own it. Don't let them take this one thing away from you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter…unfortunately.

"Are you actually worried about that git?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's continuous stream of complaints and craned her neck over the crowd of students huddled outside the Potions' classroom.

"He's pretty tall - remember that from last night? You'll see him coming the moment he turns the corner," Harry pointed out.

"But she shouldn't be looking for him," Ron cried exasperatedly. "Do you not remember just yesterday? You know, when he was an arse to you? Like always, I might add."

"You mean after he had a panic attack because his worst fear is torturing me? Yes, Ronald, I do."

"Is that it though?"

"What?"

"Is that actually his worst fear?" Harry clarified. He looked doubtful and nothing like the carefree, normal student he was supposed to be this year. "Malfoy, of all people, is disgusted at the thought of torturing you, a mudblood? Sorry, Hermione."

She shook her head. "It's only a word. It doesn't have any power until you let it."

Ron snorted and shook his head. "You're mad if you believe that."

"I have to," she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "How else am I supposed to cope with the scar on my arm?"

Ron and Harry both flinched visibly and Ron had the decency to look apologetic. The two of them had yet to get over their guilt, no matter how many times she told them they weren't to blame. She even avoided wearing any short sleeves around them. She hated the way they would look anywhere but at her, until they slipped and their eyes flickered to her arm for half a second. That was enough time for guilt to cloud their judgement and they would revert back to walking on eggshells around her. She would've thought that after six years of resolute friendship, they would know she was stronger than that. Sure she still had nightmares about her little trip to Malfoy Manor, but honestly, who wouldn't?

"Let's not talk about all this anymore. No use fighting over Malfoy," Harry suggested.

Snape was standing by the door with a foul expression on his face and he eyed Harry with disdain when the boy shuffled past him.

"Nice to see some things never change," Ron muttered.

"You'd think fighting alongside the Order would soften him to us," Hermione remarked.

"Or he'd at least stop being such a git."

"You guys have too much faith in him," said Harry, shaking his head with a grin. "He wouldn't be our beloved -" Ron choked and bent over in a confusing mix of laughter and coughing. "- Snape if he didn't wake up every morning regretting my existence."

By the time they managed to get their laughter under control, their faces were red and the puffy with the effort of calming their breathing. Snape scowled when he looked over to find them staring back with too-innocent wide eyes.

"This is a seventh year N.E.W.T. Potions class and as such, I will not tolerate any foolish behaviour in my classroom. I expect that by now you all have learned to behave less like a pack of mentally incapacitated baboons and more like barely tolerable ingrates," Snape's dangerously silky voice rang out clearly despite his quiet tenor. "We will be exploring some of the more difficult and dangerous potions out there. I'm certain I don't need to tell you that the workload will be heavier than ever before and my expectations insurmountable. Aside from your regular assignments and textbook based brewing, you will also be completing several major projects consisting of the more complex concoctions."

Ron and Harry exchanged dark looks and then glanced over to find Hermione listening with rapt attention.

"From all the potions you'll be making for you major projects, you'll select one that will be your final project as they take many months to complete and will be brewed outside of lessons. In class, you'll only be brewing a portion of each of those potions to get the gist of them. Though I don't particularly relish seeing your faces more than I have to, major projects will be presented on Friday mornings, when you shall have an extra Potions session instead of your study period. If I hear a single complaint from any of you, you'll be spending every Saturday night in detention for the rest of the term, understood?" The class held their breath as he eyed them with a severe glare. "In preparation for the more complex potions, you'll also be handing in a paper on the origins and method the day of the practical. After having brewed it, you will follow up with a discussion of how your potion went and the applications of it. When you -"

The door opened loudly, cutting Snape off, and in swept an unembarrassed blond. Without bothering to offer an excuse, he strode over to the seat Pansy had saved for him and sat down. To the students that continued to stare at him, Draco raised an eyebrow and sneered.

Harry and Ron scowled, knowing that if it had been them walking in late and that arrogantly too, Snape would've flayed them alive.

"When you're writing your papers, be aware that your effort and depth of research are directly proportional to your success in the classroom. With the potions we'll be working on, the smallest mistake can result in your permanent disfigurement or even death."

"Is it just me or did he look awfully excited at that last bit?" Ron muttered to Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Without looking away from Snape, he replied, "Definitely."

"Your first major project for this class, starting today, will be brewing Amortentia, something you ought to have touched on last year. The shimmering silver-rot potion base for Amortentia has already been made for you since it takes six months and the competency of a Potions Master to brew. Your partner and you will present your finished product at the end of the week and we will be testing it to see if it actually worked. Since you will only be brewing the tail-end of the potion, you will have to learn the rest of it by theory and write a paper on it. Now, who can tell me what it does?"

Studiously avoiding Hermione's hand, which had shot up before he even finished his question, Snape peered around his classroom with narrowed eyes. Several students were keeping their gazes low, while others just kept a blank expression on their face and stared back nervously.

"Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you can give us an idea."

Everyone turned to watch Malfoy, who had been absentmindedly doodling in his notebook, look up with surprise. Harry and Ron exchanged gleeful looks, looking forward to seeing Malfoy get his ass handed to him. He may be immune from losing house points, but even Malfoy couldn't avoid Snape's wrathful disappointment for not paying attention.

Putting his quill down and folding his arms across his chest, Malfoy leaned back with a look of utmost boredom placed carefully over his sharp features. As if reciting from a textbook, he said evenly, "Known as the most powerful love potion, Amortentia causes the drinker to become obsessed with the person who administered it. Since true love cannot actually be replicated, the potion merely creates a very strong infatuation and the effects eventually wear off. It is identifiable by its mother-of-pearl sheen and its distinct aroma is different for everyone, resembling what one is attracted to most."

The Gryffindors sank back in their seats disappointedly and scowled at the smirk the blond sent their way. Snape didn't even look fazed, Hermione noticed, realizing that he had probably expected Malfoy to know the answer.

"Professor," she spoke up quietly, raising her hand when Snape looked at her expectantly.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"You said we would be testing it and -"

"I did," he agreed, interrupting her with a smirk.

"Um, and I was just wondering how we'll be doing that? Though it doesn't replicate actual love, Amortentia is extremely dangerous and -"

"I'm aware, Ms. Granger. As potions master at this school, I think we can agree that it is under my direct jurisdiction to determine the safety of the tasks I assign my students. Right, Ms. Granger?"

Undeterred by his dangerously quiet sneer, she continued, "Of course, sir. However, testing the potion would be something that we should mention in our method and expected results, wouldn't you agree, sir?"

"Your unending thirst to know absolutely everything and anything, whether or not it be your business, never ceases to astound me."

To everyone's surprise, Hermione smiled sweetly and said in an equally sugary tone, "It's as you said, this is a N.E.W.T. class and you wouldn't expect anything less."

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" were the first words out of Harry's mouth when Snape dismissed them an hour later.

"She's bloody mental," Ron added, grunting at the effort of putting the stopper on his wit-sharpening potion. Where it was supposed to be a vivid green, the liquid was a dull orange and gave off a thick grey smoke that made it nearly impossible to contain in the vial.

"I think you underestimate how important N.E.W.T.s are to me," she retorted, a small grin playing at the edge of her lips.

"Even so you - oh, bloody hell," Harry groaned when he accidentally spilled his caterpillar legs on the ground.

At the same moment, Snape called out to Malfoy, "Mr. Malfoy, a word if you will."

"No, it's fine. You guys go, and Ron, tell Trelawney I got into some sort of accident," Harry said quietly when his friends moved to help him clean up.

"I'll tell her Peeves dropped a piano on you. That's what she predicted when she saw you in the corridor yesterday," Ron said gleefully.

Crouching onto the floor behind his cauldron, Harry cast a quick disillusion spell on himself and his bag. As risky and impulsive his idea was, and Merlin knew how morally wrong it was, Harry strained his ears to hear Snape's quiet voice.

"Why were you late? Did something happen?"

"I'm guessing you spoke with Lupin?"

"He approached me yesterday evening and told me of the events that took place in his class. I cannot believe that half-breed would be so foolish at to bring a bloody dementor before a group of war survivors," Snape seethed.

Harry clenched his fists, fighting the knee-jerk reaction to defend Lupin and give away his presence while doing so.

"Don't. His reasons, though blindly optimistic, were commendable," Malfoy said quietly.

Harry sank back on his heels, his muscles unclenching in shock. He had thought yesterday's little show at the beginning of DADA was just that - a show. Never in a million years did he imagine he would hear Draco Malfoy, of all people, defending a werewolf. Especially not one he'd personally gotten fired before.

"Nothing excuses causing a student to have a panic attack."

Malfoy sighed and pointed out, "If it wasn't the dementor, it would've been something else."

"Have you considered telling Dumbledore?"

"About Lupin?" Malfoy didn't sound excited at the idea.

"No, about the nightmares and the…other symptoms."

"Absolutely not."

"Don't be foolish, Draco. This is your life we're talking about."

"Exactly. My life. Mine. The last time I went to Dumbledore for help it ended with me nearly bleeding to death in my own home," Malfoy snarled, his voice rising with his temper. "Regardless, I don't need his help for that anymore. I woke up this morning with slashes all over my chest and my nails were covered in blood. That's why I was late; Pomfrey was regrowing my torn off nails and healing the numerous gashes on my body."

"And you still don't want to go to Dumbledore?"

"Enough. Can you help me or not?"

Snape paused and took a moment to look at the haggard boy before him.

"I have a small batch of Somnium Mortuum, one of my own creations. However, it's only enough for a couple nights and it'll take two months to brew a new stock."

"What does it do?" Malfoy asked warily.

"Sleep of the dead. It'll put you into a short coma," Snape explained and Harry could hear him walking over to his supply closet behind his desk. "There are some nasty after effects, but it'll allow your body to start the healing process without the…whatever is plaguing you, from interrupting."

"How bad are they?"

"You may experience some bizarre dreams and -"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"The entire root of this problem is my nightmares. If it weren't for the fact that I wake up screaming because I'm reliving my worst memories then I could get a decent night's sleep. Do you have any idea how tired I am? The last time I actually slept soundly was long before the Dark Lord moved into the Manor and -"

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I did. I mean, Lupin knows about the nightmares and Pomfrey gave me a couple draughts that seem to work for about an hour or two."

"Not that," Snape hissed impatiently. "You said these aren't just dreams? They're memories?"

"Yeah, but how does that even mat -"

"For Salazar's sake, Draco, this changes everything! Do you not see?"

"See what?" Malfoy cried exasperatedly.

"You're an accomplished occulumens, one of the best ever. Even when you sleep your mind is protected with all the puzzles and traps you've set. That's the way it has been since you surpassed my skill level at the mere age of thirteen. Now how is it possible that these nightmares are able to penetrate your mental defences?"

Harry could just picture the scowl on the arrogant boy's face as he said, "I must be broken."

"Don't be foolish, Malfoys don't break."

"Well it damn sure doesn't feel like that," he retorted and then sighed. "What is your theory? Lupin already told me his so you might as well too."

"The half-breed doesn't know your mind like I do," Snape sneered, his voice full of disdain. "I'm not entirely sure, as of yet. You'll need to give me some time to gather research."

"I don't have time!" Malfoy yelled, and a deafening crash pierced the tension in the air. Harry flinched and his war reflexes had him gripping his wand tightly with a curse on his lips even before the blond let out a frustrated scream. After a minute of only hearing his harsh breathing, Harry was about to peek around his cauldron when he just barely heard a faint whisper, "All for naught."

"Draco -"

"I thought coming here, to Hogwarts, would get me away from the constant reminder of those horrid days. I didn't even think it was possible, but somehow it's gotten even worse. Before was like being underwater and hearing the muted screams from above. But now? Now they're shrieking in my ears and their pain, it bounces around my skull. I just want it to stop. I'll give anything for it to stop."

"Give me until the weekend."

* * *

"Tell me you didn't, Harry." Hermione eyed him disapproving when he slipped into the seat across from her. She had two textbooks and a pile of papers scattered on the table before her. The fireplace was roaring and the Gryffindor common room was alight with laughter. Ron was across the room playing exploding snap with Seamus while several others egged them on. Ginny was sitting nearby with her group of friends, gossiping and painting each others nails. How Hermione could concentrate amongst this racket was beyond him.

"You won't be saying that when I tell you what I heard."

"That's besides the point," she tutted, rolling her eyes when he just grinned. "It's a serious invasion of privacy."

"It's Malfoy," Harry stressed, as if that somehow justified everything.

"It's wrong," she retorted and pulled her half done essay closer to herself. He watched impatiently while she cast a spell to check for grammatical errors and poked each glowing red word with her wand to correct it. "The war is over, Harry. You can't possibly have a valid reason for spying on Malfoy. It's not like he's secretly a Death Eater this time. His business is just that - his."

"Remember when I said something was different about him?"

"Harry," Hermione began tiredly, but he cut her off quickly.

"He's sick."

Hermione paused her quill and looked up at her friend silently. When he noticed her interest, he leaned forward to explain everything he'd heard.

"That…is so messed up. So something is happening to Malfoy that's giving him nightmares and apparently it's preventing his body from healing? Healing from what, though?" she summarized speculatively. Her brows were furrowed as she went over the conversation again in her head, trying to pick out any details that might give her a clue.

"That's not all, Hermione," Harry whispered, lowering his tone even further when he noticed Ginny eying them curiously. "He sounded…exhausted. Not just the haven't-slept-in-ten-years kind of tired. Well that too, but more like the-weight-of-the-world-is-on-my-shoulders-and-I-just-want-someone-to-shoot-me."

"That's awful. But I'm really not surprised," she said sadly and noticing his confused expression, she explained, "Voldemort did terrible things to him. You didn't see him, each time he came back from one of his 'sessions' with that monster. Malfoy knew he was dying, Harry. He had given up."

"I don't think I'll ever truly understand your time in the Malfoy Manor dungeons," Harry admitted reluctantly, shaking his head. "The Malfoy he was with you and the things you two endured together, I just can't wrap my head around it all."

Hermione gave him a sad smile, having already known before he put it in words.

"I'm guessing that when he mentioned the last time he went to Dumbledore for help he was referring to becoming a spy for the order."

"Seems like it. It really would've helped to know that when you showed up at headquarters with him bleeding to death all over you."

"I cannot believe you were going to let him die." Hermione scowled and threw her hands up disbelief.

"We thought he was evil," her best friend protested weakly, but she shook her head. "Dumbledore really should've told us. Keeping it a secret didn't really help anyone."

"Well don't expect Malfoy to be happy about that," she snapped at Harry's poor defence. Letting out a deep breath of air, she changed the topic.

"Sleep of the Dead? I wonder how Snape came up with that. It sounds fascinating," she mused and then her eyes lit up excitedly. "Did you look for it in the textbook?"

"The Half-Blood Prince's book?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry sprang to his feet and rushed up to his dormitory.

To the unsuspecting observer, Harry was merely carrying an old copy of Hogwarts: A History, whose presence he could explain with Hermione having given it to him for his birthday. Really, though, it was his sixth year Advanced Potions textbook with the cover disguised as his best friend's favourite book of all time.

"I don't recall ever seeing a 'Sleep of the Dead' in here."

"How about the latin name? That's what he told Malfoy - Somnium Mortuum," Hermione suggested when Harry flipped through quickly, skimmed for a peek of the title, but didn't find anything.

It was there, tucked in between a complex numbing potion and the draught of delirium.

"Holy shit," Hermione breathed, his eyes growing wide and sparkling with excitement. "This is incredibly advanced. I've never seen anything like it. Except maybe Felix Felicis."

"It doesn't say exactly what it does but look here at his notes in the margins."

"Extends REM cycle…accelerated healing properties…improved lucid control," she read out in a whisper, her finger tracing over the words. "How does Snape even know what REM sleep is? That's too scientific, too muggle, for any wizard."

"Well he is a half-blood, yeah?"

"True, but still. This is amazing. Can you imagine the applications of a mass-produced potion such as this. Of course, there has to be a reason, a drawback, as to why Snape isn't making a heap of galleons off of this."

"He's a slimy Slytherin git," Harry offered.

Hermione shook her head, looking entirely too unamused.

"You heard him say there were nasty side effects?" she asked, to which he nodded slowly. "I wonder if nasty means dangerous."

"He wouldn't give it to Malfoy if that were the case."

Hermione threw him a dark look and said, "He would if they were desperate."

"Which brings up the question…what exactly is wrong with Malfoy?"

* * *

It was sitting up in the astronomy tower that finally brought him a semblance of peace. Listening to Professor Sinatra's spiel about all the constellations and planets they'd be learning about let him put his worries away and get caught up in her excitement. Astronomy had always been one of his favourite subjects and he took it every year as an extra elective. It meant a bigger workload, especially with the time commitment of Quidditch Captain and Head Boy, but it was definitely worth it. Growing up, his fascination with the stars had been something he shared with his mother and they had spent many a nights stargazing. It was the Black in him, she would say when his eyes would light up as he pointed out his namesake in the sky.

The class was small as not many students took Astronomy in their upper years. It wasn't exactly an easy course, nor was it a prerequisite for most careers. Looking around at his peers, he was especially glad to not see the faces of the three Gryffindors that chewed on his nerves like no other. The only idiots-in-maroon here were the Longbottom freak and one of the twins. He could never remember which one was which - not that he cared to - so he assumed this one was a Gryffindork. A handful of Ravenclaws and two Hufflepuffs made up the rest of the class.

The door slammed open and Theo sauntered in, cutting Sinatra off mid-sentence.

He looked mildly amused as he explained, "I just switched into the class." He took a seat next to a confused Draco and leaned over to whisper, "It was either this or divination."

Draco nodded absentmindedly and returned to his doodling. He was barely paying attention to what he was drawing, instead half-listening to Sinatra go over review material. His whole body was taut with stress as he focused on maintaining his composure. Every minute or so a sharp pain would pierce his shoulder blades, and while he winced at first, now he just endured it silently. It had started off with a persistent itch that had him clawing at his back frantically. Between flashes of pain, he struggled to not scratch at the inflamed skin surrounding the wounds made by his regrown nails. The pain went too deep, making it feel like there was a dagger being pressed into his bones and spinal cord.

Realizing Sinatra was finished talking and had assigned them work to do for the rest of the class, he bent down to pull a fresh piece of parchment and quill out of his bag. As stupid and unfortunate as they were, muggles had done one thing right. He'd been in Rome one summer and wandered into a muggle art shop. That was when he discovered the beauty that was his charcoal sketching pencil. Drawing with a quill had always felt a bit awkward and quite honestly, quills were useless for anything other than the written word.

"What the fuck?"

Draco straightened up at Theo's strangled whisper and looked at him questioningly.

"Did you know there's blood on the back of your shirt?"

Draco mentally groaned when he realized blood had seeped through his white button-up before the wounds could scab over and it hadn't occurred to him when he removed his robes earlier. He'd been getting hot flashes randomly throughout the day and couldn't be bothered with the school dresscode.

"I am aware of it…now," he replied, adding the last part hesitantly.

"Bloody hell, mate."

Draco's lips tightened and he kept his gaze firm on his work, ignoring the worried looks Theo was sending him. Whoever said Slytherins were emotionless was a fuckin' idiot. If the others would open their eyes and look past their prejudices, they would see that Slytherins were a tight-knit group and were unwaveringly loyal to each other. They didn't keep their hearts out on their sleeves, but they weren't afraid of showing worry for each other.

"Want to come hang out in the dungeons for a bit?" Theo suggested when class ended.

"I don't think I can handle Pansy fussing over me again. She's so freaked out that it's freaking me out," Draco said as he began packing all his stuff. When Theo didn't reply, Draco looked up to find his friend staring down at the ground with wide eyes and a slacked mouth. He bent over to pick up a piece of parchment, studying it for a moment and then placing it on the desk before Draco.

Looking down, Draco immediately understood the horrified look on his face. He'd been drawing the same image all day, becoming used to the jagged edges and dark strokes. Those magnificent wings, adorned with feathers that seemed so silky that if you were to press you finger against them you'd be surprised to feel the rough texture of the parchment. Darkness seemed to ooze from their sagging grace, and despite their beauty, they held an aura of…broken. It was as if someone had ripped his chest open and bared his soul out for the entire world to see. Wounds that bled darkness adorned a powerful weapon just waiting to be wielded, just waiting to destroy the world.

"They're beautiful." Theo offered, watching his face carefully for a reaction.

He shook his head, his expression closed off but his eyes stormy. Crumpling the parchment up into a ball and tossing it into his bag, Draco stormed out of the nearly empty classroom.

The halls were empty this late at night and the torches lining the walls flickered as he swept by. Anger was brewing beneath his skin, mixing in with the resentment already present. The war was over, had been for a few months now. Hadn't he already paid his dues? Living with that monster in his house, letting him torture him an inch from death. He was a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! Malfoys weren't supposed to suffer as such. People assumed he slept on imported silk sheets, but they didn't know he bled on them too.

_Feeeeed me._

He came to an abrupt stop, his wand already up and a curse waiting at his lips. He strained his ears to hear something other than the sound of his own heartbeat and wasn't disappointed.

_I need blood. Give me blood._

It was that slippery whisper again, echoing around him from every direction. He swirled around but there wasn't another soul in sight.

_Feed me fear. Feed me pain._

"Who's there?" he called out.

"You're the only one here, laddie," a bearded man spoke up from a painting behind him.

Draco spared the painting a glance before taking a few tentative steps forward. After about a minute or two of listening with bated breath, he realized that whomever he'd heard was gone.

 _Or it was never there to begin with_ , a small voice whispered in the back of his head.

Swallowing hard, Draco shook his head and took in a deep breath before continuing on his way.

"You're looking paler than usual, pretty boy."

Ignoring the jeers of King Arthur, Draco entered the common room and breathed out a sigh of relief. It wasn't like him to be afraid of a certain bushy-haired shot but the mere sight of her brought forth emotions in him that he wanted to avoid. It was true that just the past few days at Hogwarts had been worse than the Manor, but it could easily just be because of her. It was a silly thought but Draco couldn't ignore the tug and pull of his blood that grew heavy when she came near. That sort of energy surging in him made him feel uneasy. Out of control.

Tossing his bag onto the table, he stretched out on the couch and let the weight of his body sink into the plushy cushion. He took a couple of minutes to just take in every ache and pain that plagued his body. He briefly considered informing his parents of his impending death, but thought better of it. He could just imagine how that correspondence would go.

_Good evening Mother,_

_I hope my letter finds you in good health, though the same cannot be said for me. I was sorely tempted to begin with the words, "By the time you read this, I shall be dead," but figured that would be the quickest way to induce a heart attack, which is an illness entirely too muggle to befell a Malfoy. That would be disgraceful and Father would promptly kneel over in shame._

_I bequeath all my belongings - at least the ones that won't curse him - to Teddy Lupin.. I also assign Anya to that little half-breed in the hopes that his extreme helplessness (an unfortunate affliction all newborns have) will keep her attention away from the travesty of my demise._

_I ask that my funeral be a grand affair - as is befitting of a Malfoy - complete with fire-breathing dragons and a statue of my likeness erected in my honour. Be warned, Theo will attempt to eat all of the pastries and tell Blaise that if he doesn't keep his filthy paws away from you, I'll come back and haunt his tanned Italian arse - pardon my language._

_With much love and affection, I bid thee adieu,_

_Draco Abraxas Malfoy_

_Loving son and prodigal heir (not necessarily in that order)_

Of course his mother wouldn't waste time with writing a response. No, she'd storm the castle with the wrath of the seven seas at her fingertips. Those Black women were deadly, and that was before their precious offspring were endangered. He was grateful for the immense strength his mother possessed; she would need it to survive the news of his death.

Letting out a sigh, Draco wondered when his life had gotten so depressing. Probably around the same time that slimy rat had resurrected the Dark Lord. Now there was a stupid idea if he'd ever heard one.

Shaking away his morbid thoughts, he abandoned the albeit comfy couch for his much more private bed. He was accustomed to the cold after six years of living in the dungeons, but now the cold air in his room only intensified the ache in his bones. Cursing how weak he'd become over the course of the past month or so, he casted a quick warming spell and set about preparing for bed. He changed into a pair of black silk pyjama pants and left his room to brush his pearly whites. A flash of brown in his periphery caught his attention and he glanced over the balcony to a sight that had him running down the stairs before he knew it.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She jumped and whirled around with a hand pressed to her racing heart and the other clutching a crumpled piece of parchment. Instead of looking embarrassed or guilty like the chit should've, she glanced between the paper and him.

"Is this yours?"

His nostrils flared and he scowled at her stupid question. Who else's would it be?

"Perhaps your muggle breeding never taught you to keep your grubby little hands off what doesn't belong to you, but could you at least attempt some sort of social etiquette?" He snapped, folding his arms across his chest and eyeing her with disdain.

Her eyes fluttered away from his face to trace over his bare chest and he noted the red blooming in her cheeks smugly. Despite his mysterious illness, Draco had filled out a bit more over the summer and he was very much aware of it. It was nice to know that even Wonder Boy's logical sidekick wasn't immune to his charms. In fact, if he was judging her flushed skin and nervous gaze right, she found him aesthetically pleasing.

"Ahem," he coughed discreetly, smirking when she flinched and reeled back on her heels. Finally, some embarrassment on her snooty face.

"I-I found this on the floor and well it's...uh...it's beautiful. You're very talented."

His brow furrowed and he eyed her warily. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, this came nowhere close. Her Gryffindor honestly never failed to surprise him and usually that was followed by his disapproval of such a blatant weakness.

She held out the parchment hesitantly and her body seemed to relax when he took it from her.

"I never knew you could draw," she said, her eyes trained on the dark ink peeking out from under his clenched fist.

"Yeah, well other than that you know all that fuckin' much about me, right?"

Her dark eyes flashed up to his and a scowl painted her pink lips.

"You don't have to be such an arse all the time. Especially not when someone is complimenting you," she growled, her hands coming to sit on her hips.

"I don't need your compliments. I already know my many talents."

She threw her hands up in the air and cried, "So bloody conceited."

He smirked at her easy temper. "What would your precious Gryffindors say if they knew their princess was admiring their worst enemy?"

"Don't fool yourself." She threw him a dirty look. "You're not nearly enough to be our worst enemy."

In a flash, he was up in her space, close enough for her to feel the heat emanating off his lean body. She swallowed hard and instead of stepping back, she craned her neck to meet his gaze head-on. He was reminded again of just how short she was in comparison to him as her head barely came up to his chin. Her soft features were set in a defiant glare and his lips twitched at the sight of a kitten pretending she was a lioness.

"I think you'll find that I'm more than enough, Princess," he purred, leaning down to flick his tongue out against the shell of her ear. Her eyes fell close and she shivered, a motion that had him fighting back a smug grin.

Then it was his turn to close his eyes and let that strange combination of rose-cinnamon-cardomom wash over him. It was her, he realized, that powerful scent was all her and he was nearly drunk on it. When he opened his eyes, he was startled to find those chocolate eyes of hers watching him carefully. It was clear that he affected her nearly as much as she did him and the realization had him snapping out of whatever trance she'd ensnared him in. Without breaking their gaze, he stepped away from her and paused to take in her heaving chest, her unruly mane, her pouty mouth.

That night, instead of being tortured by his aunt, he dreamt of the girl who saved his life.

_"Why are you here?"_

_He knew she wouldn't stop asking until he gave her something and so without opening his eyes, he said, "This is my ancestral home."_

_"You know what I mean," she said, not sounding annoyed. When he didn't reply, she asked again, "Why are you in the cold dungeons and not lounging on your silk sheets?"_

_"I'm just enjoying myself, having a picnic," he snarled quietly._

_"Is it because of me?"_

_At this, he opened his eyes and glared at her. "Don't flatter yourself."_

_Undeterred, she continued, "They didn't put you in here until after I got here, right?"_

_"If I say yes, will you shut up?"_

_She blinked and he rolled his eyes. Annoying little bitch._

_"Why?"_

_"Why are you such a nosy swot? Only Merlin knows," he sneered._

_The light from the lantern outside their cell flickered across her dirt-covered face and illuminated the irritation on the purse of her lips. Finally._

_"You tried to help me." Her words were more of a statement than a question. "I thought I felt...the pain, it lessened for a moment there."_

_He eyes closed at her words and he fought the urge to yell at her. This was all her fault. If she hadn't been stupid enough to get caught, then neither of them would be stuck here. Unfortunately, the little bitch wasn't done with her crusade to drive him to insanity. His aunt didn't even need to bother to try and torture him to death; Granger was doing a good enough job of it on her own._

_"I thought - I know I heard your voice while...while she was...you know. It helped and for that, thank you."_

_He let out a sharp breath and glared daggers at the bane of his existence. "Don't mention it, seriously, don't. Believe me, I regret it already."_

_"Regardless, thank you."_

_He groaned and if his arms weren't sore from the numerous bruises covering them he would've thrown them up in frustration._

_"Granger, get this through your thick skull. I. Don't. Fucking. Care. I could care less if you dropped dead this very moment and so the last thing I need is your worthless gratitude," he spat venomously, wishing Bellatrix would show up and Avada her. Or him. Or both of them._

_That shut her up, at least for a few minutes. Her voice was small as she asked, "Why did you do it then?"_

_Her dark gaze was heavy on his person and he gritted out, "I don't know."_

_She didn't like his answer. Her voice took on a tone of petulance as she whispered, "Why would the purest of purebloods, Draco Malfoy, save the life of a filthy little mudblood?"_

_He flinched at the last word she spat out and the observant chit noticed._

_"That's what I am, after all. A lowly mudblood. Your sadistic aunt made sure that I would never forget it."_

_He swallowed hard, her screams echoing in his ears. He could still feel the bile that had been clawing up his throat as he'd watched her arm get carved into. Forever a reminder of her place in their world. A word that had fallen from his lips so carelessly many times over the years. A word that would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life, as if it wasn't enough to endure whilst awake._

_She had said her piece and now an oppressive silence hung between them. His stomach churned uncomfortably and he knew it wasn't because of the blood-boiling curse his aunt had used on him earlier. He didn't know how much time had passed before he finally spoke up, his voice raspy from the tightness of his throat._

_"You shouldn't be ashamed."_

_She stirred, lifting her head to watch him with bleary eyes. Her knees had been pulled to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. That untameable mop of hers hung limply around her bony shoulders, but despite all that, she looked stronger than he felt in that moment._

_"You may be just a filthy little mudblood, but no one who's seen you claw your way through our world for the past six years can say that's a bad thing." He tried to convey with his eyes everything his words couldn't. He damn hoped she understood, because he highly doubted either of them would be making it out of here alive for him to explain again. "Wear it like a crown. Own it. Don't let them take this one thing away from you."_

_The fire from the torch flickered in her eyes, watching him ever so intently from across the cell they'd called home for the past few days. He didn't know it now, but those eyes, that mousy little girl would be his salvation._

_"Mudblood Princess," she croaked out, a small smile gracing her cracked lips._

_His own lips curved to mirror hers and he murmured, "Disgraced Prince."_

_Forget salvation, with the way she looked at him just now and the heat that touched him with her hooded gaze, she would be the death of him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that clears up a few more things. Your comments really helped me through a shitty weekend so thank you thank you so much! Please let me know what you thought of it and constructive criticism is more than welcome.


	6. The Bachelor and the Pawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Queen is begrudged her crown and the fate of the Malfoy heir begins to unravel  
> 
> 
> _"Like I said- idiots," he murmured, sending a shiver down her spine. "They've got a queen and yet they use her as a pawn."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

He must be insane, he realized, for swimming in the cold waters of the Great Lake at the ass crack of dawn. His body certainly protested, this morning decorated with bruises that weren't there the night before. It was definitely better than scratching himself awake and, at this point, Draco would take what he could.

"Are you trying to kill yourself before this curse can?" Blaise hissed when Draco walked into transfiguration.

"We still aren't certain that it's a curse."

Blaise rolled his eyes and leaned forward to whisper, "One of those Creepy brothers saw you diving into the lake."

"Creepy?" Draco looked at him with bewilderment written all over his face.

"The ones who're always salivating after Potter and taking his pictures."

Draco grimaced and said, "The cold water, it's like a nice shock to my system, scaring away the exhaustion for a bit."

"You're still decided against taking Snape's potion"

Draco pressed his lips together and nodded his head tightly.

"There's a very, very thin line between stubbornness and stupidity when it comes to you," Blaise mused.

"Unless I'm an inch away from death's door, I won't be taking any nightmare inducing potions. I get enough of that without the extra help," Draco muttered, dropping his voice as Mcgonagall began her lesson on human transfigurations. "I mixed the Draught of Dreamless Sleep with the Elixir of Peace last night and it helped some."

"Hate to say it, brother, but you're less than an inch away from death's door."

Draco's only response was his trademark scowl.

For the first time in days, Draco wasn't feeling nauseated and he wanted to take advantage of that before the awful feeling returned.

"Wait until you see this Muggle Studies class, Draco. It's atrocious," Blaise complained as they left the Charms classroom. "I can't believe the Ministry is making us take such a useless class."

"They're all fools. We've studied Blast-ended Skewts but that didn't make us love them, or understand them," Draco sneered, already wondering if he could play the sick card to get out of this. "Isn't that Weaselbee's sister?"

A large crowd had formed at the entrance of the great Hall, circling the redheaded girl and a seventh year Hufflepuff. The boy was on his knees, holding up a bouquet of red roses which matched the colour of her face. She looked torn between embarrassment and anger, her narrowed eyes trailing over the students watching them.

"Get up," she hissed at her dark-haired companion. "You're making a fool of yourself."

"I don't care. I've fallen in love with you, Geraldine Weasley," he cried. "Marry me!"

"It's Ginerva, you idiot," she snapped and her wand arm twitched. "I swear to Merlin, Goldstein, if you don't get up right now I'll curse you so hard your children will have bat bogeys."

Blaise snickered, exchanging an amused glance with Draco.

"Don't you mean our children?"

The crowd ducked as the boy went flying and hit the stone wall with a loud thump. She made good on her threat with an impressive bat bogey hex and stormed into the great hall with a fierce look on her face.

"Ginny? You look like you're about to kill somebody," Hermione said when her friend took a seat across from her and began filling her plate.

"If I didn't have to worry about mom grounding me for the rest of my life for ending up in Azkaban, I would Avada that pompous fool ten times over," she snarled, slapping Neville's hand away when he reached for a roll from the bread basket. She grabbed said roll and stabbed a knife through it, mutilating it in her attempt to slice it in two.

Neville squeaked and moved as far as he could from the redhead, sending Hermione pleading glances.

"Uh," Hermione said bewilderedly, noting that nearly everyone in the Hall was watching them. "Who? Ron?"

"No! That Goldstein thickhead. Hufflepuff in your year," she grunted, angrily shoving rice into her mouth.

"Tell me Seamus is joking," Ron growled, dropping into the seat next to Ginny.

"I wish," Ginny muttered and scowled.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked as Harry slipped in beside her.

"Seamus said he heard from Padma that she saw some seventh year ask Ginny to marry him," Harry said cautiously, eyeing his best friend.

"I'll kill him," Ron yelled, earning a slap upside his head from Ginny.

"Will you quit making a scene?" she snapped.

"I didn't know you were seeing anybody, Ginny," Hermione remarked.

"I'm not," she grumbled.

"Oh…then, why?" Harry looked equally as flustered as Hermione and nodded along to her question. "You're only sixteen."

Ginny cocked her head to the side and stared at the confused pair for a moment before nodding slowly. She opened her mouth but she was cut off before she could speak.

"Muggles don't marry until a later age," Lavender piped up and gestured to Hermione and Harry. "That's why these two look like Snape started singing Christmas jingles."

"Really? Why not?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed as he began piling up his plate.

"Aren't we a bit young? We're still in school and we haven't even gotten our careers started. How could we possibly support a family?"

"That's what parents are for, Hermione," Parvati answered before anyone else could. "I'm betting Harry's parents were financially supported by his dad's parents. Family money and all. The Wizarding world is big on family."

"It's true. Mum and dad married right after they graduated and they were engaged almost two years," Ron added.

"That's terrifying," Harry finally said, looking a bit pale.

"You'll see a lot of couples in our year getting engaged soon," said Parvati, looking excited.

Hermione frowned and asked, "Why Ginny then? She's only a sixth year and she's not even dating that guy."

"No, but she's a solid candidate. Not only is she beautiful, but she comes from a good stock too."

At Hermione's perplexed expression, Lavender explained, "The Weasley's have a lot of kids so there wouldn't be the fertility problems that the other Sacred Twenty-Eight tend to have. Ever wonder why a family as rich as the Malfoys, Notts, or Parkinsons only have one child each?"

"Not to mention, she's a pureblood and she was on the winning side of the war. Considering how close her family is with the Chosen One, she's pretty much the best option for a respectable wife and, no doubt, Goldstein wanted to snatch her up before anyone else could."

"We fought a bloody war over this and still all anyone cares about is blood?" Hermione sputtered, her eyes wide with disbelief and face flushed with annoyance. "Harry, if you're going to throw up, please go do it somewhere else."

Harry shook his head and exclaimed faintly, "This is barbaric."

"It's how the Wizarding world works and it's completely normal for us," Parvati corrected, and then mused gleefully, "I can't wait to see which lucky bitch gets her hands on Malfoy."

Ron choked on his mashed potatoes just as Lavender chimed in, "If it weren't for the war, he would've totally been engaged by now."

"Why would anyone want to marry that git?" Ron spat crudely, glaring across the hall at the boy in question.

Hermione's cheeks pinkened while the other three girls gaped at the redhead incredulously.

"You mean other than the fact that he's the heir to the biggest fortune in England?" Lavender hissed, sneaking a look over at the Slytherin table.

"Actually, the Malfoys are the richest family in Europe, muggle or wizard," Parvati interjected quickly. "Witch Weekly named him the most eligible bachelor of the decade and they did an entire expose on the Malfoy wealth."

"I thought Harry would be the most eligible bachelor. He's the Chosen One for Merlin's sake," Ron grumbled sourly.

Parvati shook her head. "He's third, in fact, right after that Italian hunk Zabini. Tough luck, Harry."

Harry waved her off, looking uncomfortable with the mention of himself.

"Forget the money, Malfoy is bloody gorgeous," Ginny remarked, causing Ron to spit out his pumpkin juice. "Oh get over it, Ron. You'd have to be blind to not see what a fine specimen he is."

"Okay, is it just me or did he go from a solid ten to a bloody twenty over the summer?" Lavender squealed.

"Yes! That's what I've been saying but this lot is mental," Ginny cried, throwing her hands up in incredulousness. "He looks like Aphrodite mated with a Veela."

"Oh man, that body of his is sin. He's lean as hell but still toned. And that jawline? Damn boy," Parvati sighed contentedly, closing her eyes as she drifted into a daydream. Ron threw her a disgusted look and moved over to leave a safe distance between them.

"You're so lucky you get to live with him, Hermione! Does he walk around shirtless? But seriously, that face of his is enough to make a girl - or even a guy - orgasm."

Ron banged his head against the table at Lavender's words, muttering obscenities under his breath. He didn't even notice Hermione throwing him a dirty look at his childish antics.

"Unfortunately, no."

"Hermione!" Ron and Harry cried out in shock at the same time. Their jaws just about hit the floor and their eyes were as wide as saucers.

"What? I'm a normal nineteen year old girl with a healthy libido," Hermione said bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow at her two best friends, both of whom were now choking on their own saliva. "I can appreciate a work of art when I see one."

"Ha!" Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother and grinned at Hermione. "I'm glad you're not stuck on childhood grudges, Hermione. Inter-house unity is a lot more fun than I thought it would be."

"Seriously? He called you a mudblood just two days ago." Harry protested.

He looked over to see that Hermione wasn't even listening to him. Instead, her attention was on a particularly green-looking Malfoy running out of the hall.

"I'll catch you guys later," she said quickly, grabbing her bag and running out as well.

"What's up with her?" Ron wondered and reached over to grab her uneaten scone.

"You know how she is," Harry said quietly, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what she wanted with that snake. "Probably Heads stuff."

"Listen, Harry, I wanted to talk to you about something," Ron said quietly, glancing around to see if anyone else was listening in.

Hermione was in such a hurry to catch up to the blonde boy that she didn't realize, at first, what she had followed him into. The sounds of him purging his stomach of the little food he'd managed to eat echoed in the high ceilings of the boys washroom. Instead of keeping back near the sinks, she approached his bent over form and patted his back awkwardly. Malfoy flinched and spun on his heel, glaring at her with eyes so cold that she nearly stumbled back.

"What the fu-" he began to snarl but immediately turned back to the toilet as another rubber band snapped violently against his gut.

Hermione began rubbing circles into his back, noting the she could feel the heat of his skin seeping through his white button up. When the retching finally gave pause, the only sound that could be heard was Draco's heavy breathing. He pulled out his wand to perform a shaky cleaning charm on his clothes and then a mouth cleansing spell.

She watched him for a moment before pulling out her own wand. She transfigured a bobby pin from her hair into a goblet and filled it with water using an aguamenti spell.

"I don't need your help," he muttered as he performed a charm to get rid of the foul odour and replaced it with a jasmine scent.

Making a mental note to ask him about such a useful spell later, she thrust the goblet at him. "It won't kill your pride to accept a cup of water from me."

Glowering at her over the rim, he chugged down the entire contents of the goblet and refilled it twice. Pushing the goblet back at her, he let out a deep breath and leaned back against the wall of the stall. His eyes slipped close as he tried to get a handle on his aching body.

"What's going on with you?"

His eyes flashed angrily and he snapped," None of your business, you nosy bitch."

"It's my business if the Head Boy is going to die on me," she said carefully, watching his face for a reaction.

She wasn't disappointed. His perfect poker face slipped and surprise coloured his features for a moment.

"Does the Golden Trio really have nothing better to do than spy on other people? How un-Gryffindorish of you."

She opened her mouth and then shut it with a frown. A triumphant smirk crossed his face.

"I knew it. What else have you told your two idiots?"

"They're not idiots," she said quickly. "And I haven't told them anything. You aren't exactly subtle with…all of…this."

"Oh, I'm so sorry my dying isn't discreet enough for the Gryffindor Princess," he said moodily.

"So you're actually dying? There isn't any cure?" she asked, ignoring the roll of his eyes.

"No, Granger, I thought it would be fun to exaggerate a simple cold for more attention and sympathy."

"Stop treating this like a joke!"

His eyes narrowed and he straightened up to his full height. Her heart rate picked up at the realization that he dwarfed her completely and could physically overpower her in the blink of an eye.

"Does this look like a joke to you, Princess? Is being in constant pain and not being able to escape your own subconscious funny for you?" he asked in a deathly quiet voice.

"Of course not. I just meant that - I mean, is this it? You're just giving up?"

He frowned and began to form a scathing remark when the door to the washroom slammed open. Hermione let out a squeak and quickly closed the door of the stall, locking it as quietly as she could.

"What the hell are you doing?" Malfoy hissed.

"Do you really want everyone knowing you were in the bathroom with me?"

"As if anyone would believe it," he whispered with the beginnings of a smirk. "You've got the biggest stick up your arse that even I, the Slytherin Sex God, wouldn't be able to dislodge it."

She elbowed him and then muttered a stream of apologies when he doubled over in pain. His illness had clearly made him weaker than he seemed.

"- It's got to be something grand."

"I don't know, Ron. Hermione isn't into grand gestures."

Hermione's face paled as she realized that her two best friends had just walked in and she bit down on her lip anxiously. Draco groaned lowly and mimed banging his head against the wall.

"True, Hermione's too much of a bookworm to appreciate a dramatic romantic proposal."

Her mouth fell open in shock and she glared at the door. Malfoy seemed to find this amusing because his annoyed expression had dissolved into a grin.

"But, Harry, I've got to do something before any other guy gets the same idea."

"It's not like she'd agree to any of them. She just said how ridiculous this Wizarding tradition is and I actually agree with her."

"But she's a witch," Ron said slowly, as if pointing out grass was green.

"Raised as a muggle until she got her Hogwarts letter," Harry added.

"Muggles are strange, no offence, mate. But then again, both your parents were magical."

The intensity of Hermione's glare could've melted the metal of the door and at this point, Malfoy was holding back laughter.

"Think about this, if I do something extremely public, she won't have time to overthink it."

At this, she lunged for the door, ready to bite Ron's head off, but an arm snaked around her waist to pull her back. Draco could feel her slender body shaking with anger, pressed up against his hard chest. He resisted the urge to moan when her utterly captivating scent infiltrated his senses and instead tightened his grip on her.

"Come on, Ron. This is Hermione we're talking about. She doesn't give in to peer pressure," Harry tried to reason with him. "Also, what the hell? Why would you want to bully her into marrying you? That's ridiculous, even for you."

"Nah, mate, it's not like that. Everyone's expecting us to be the power couple of the new Wizarding World and she's smart enough to know that we belong together. Besides, I have a better shot with her than any of the other guys here and I'm not stupid enough to give up the chance to marry the brightest witch of our age. It also helps that we get along and know each other so well. Practically a match made in heaven."

Despite being weakened, Draco was able to keep the fuming witch in place and when the sound of the taps running reached their ears, he leaned down to brush his lips against the shell of her ear.

"Like I said- idiots," he murmured, sending a shiver down her spine. "They've got a queen and yet they use her as a pawn."

Her eyes slipped close, trying to hold back hot tears. She didn't know what hurt most, her best friends seeing her as an obedient bookworm or the truth in his words.

"You've got to help me come up with something. I have to make my move before anyone else."

"This will either go horribly wrong or horribly right," Harry sighed. "But I do want to see my two best friends happy with each other. You're sure she feels something for you? I don't want to force her into something…."

"Definitely! Just imagine, by next September we'll be married. Then a year later I'll be finished with Auror training and our first son will be born by then. Mum will be so excited to plan a wed -" Ron's gleeful voice cut off as the door closed behind them and immediately, Hermione's temper burst forth.

"How dare he! How dare that stupid arse think I can be bullied into marrying him? And kids? He knows perfectly well of my career plans but for him they're nothing next to his Auror dreams. Ha! As if! He wouldn't be able to even get into Auror training without Harry's fame. It's not like he's ever passed a class without me doing most of the work for him," she shrieked, angry tears streaking down her cheeks.

Draco didn't say a word, instead keeping his hold on her while she ranted. Hearing her badmouth Weasley made his entire day, but he knew if he even smirked she would reintroduce him to her right hook. Eventually, all the ire left her body and she sagged back into his arms, suddenly too tired to go on.

"He's daft, but deep down even Weasley realizes how powerful you are. Men like him can't handle a woman who's more successful than them. He just wants a frumpy homemaker like his mother waiting him on foot and popping out kids one after the other," he finally murmured against her temple when her quiet sobs began to die down. "That isn't you, Princess. You've got a world to change and peasants to lead."

"I thought you said I'm a queen," she sniffled.

His mouth curled into a soft smirk and he turned her in his arms so she could meet his eyes. She did so, hesitantly at first, and he was relieved to see there was no trace of shame on her features. They'd been through too much together, seen each other at their lowest, to be embarrassed by an emotional outburst.

"To everyone else, yes. But for me, you'll always be the princess."

Cheeks glowing pink, she lowered her head and he wondered if the illness had completely overtaken his mind. But all his thoughts vanished when she peeked up at him through her dark lashes and whispered shyly, "Mudblood Princess."

"Disgraced Prince," he breathed out, resting his chin on the top of her head with his eyes closed. He could feel her shift in his hold and then her own hands, which had been resting on his upper arms, snaked around him to grip him tighter against her lithe body.

"I don't want you to die," she said quietly after a couple minutes had passed without either of them moving.

"Careful, Princess, someone might hear and think you don't actually hate me," he scoffed lightly.

"You're still an insufferable arsehole. That won't ever change."

"You're a know-it-all bitch," he retorted, but the usual malice was absent from his voice. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

She giggled, shaking her head in amusement as she stepped away from him and unlocked the cubicle door. "Come on, DADA is about to start any minute now," she called over her shoulder just before the bell sounded loudly. "I'll go ahead and you come half a minute later?"

"You afraid people will talk? Think we're friends?" he remarked, walking in step with her. Most students had already gone to class, leaving behind a few people in the halls to stare wide-eyed as the pair walked by.

"You don't care about rumours?" she asked, craning her head to look up at him. It hadn't escaped her notice that he was walking slower than his usual pace so that she wouldn't have to struggle to catch up to his long legs.

"I'm the Prince of Slytherin. They know better than to question my actions," he huffed at her silly question. "Malfoys make the rules, not follow them."

"Nice to see that being ill hasn't affected your ego at all."

"It's not just a name, it's a way of life," he told her smugly. "Even the uniform I'm wearing at the moment costs more than Weasley's entire wardrobe."

She simply rolled her eyes and reached over to open the door to their DADA classroom. He beat her to it, a sign of his aristocratic upbringing as he held the door open and gestured for her to go ahead with a flourish of his arm.

Lupin hadn't started his lesson yet, instead he was bent over his desk, shuffling through papers. The moment they walked in, his head snapped up and his eyes glinted when they landed on Draco. He noted the way his professor had clenched his hands into fists and he was walking towards his own desk when the scent of copper hit his nostrils. Turning on his heel, he walked over to Lupin and slowed his approach as he neared.

"Professor? Are you okay?" he asked quietly, trying to avoid attracting the attention of the other students.

Lupin seemed to be breathing hard and his voice was deeper than Draco had every heard before, "My wolf…it…your scent."

"Sir, you're bleeding."

Lupin blinked in confusion and uncurled his fingers to see that his elongated nails had dug into his palms.

"The full moon isn't for another two weeks," Draco said slowly, trying to assess the situation to see if maybe the classroom needed to be evacuated.

"I know," Lupin choked out, looking pained. "It's your scent. It's different."

"What? How?"

"I had noticed a slightly bitter tinge to your scent in the past couple days, but I knew that was just because of your…um, situation. Now though, it's almost completely different. My wolf sees it - you - as a threat."

"Me?"

"Sir?" Neither of them had noticed Potter coming up behind Draco and looking extremely defensive as he eyed the Slytherin suspiciously. "Are you alright?"

"Go back to your seat, Harry. Thank you for your concern," Lupin answered without looking away from Draco.

In any other situation, Draco would've smirked at the bewildered expression on Potter's face as he registered the dismissal. Seems like Potter wasn't used to being kept out of the loop in anything.

"Draco, you smell like a _predator_."

Draco swallowed hard, feeling his chest grow heavy with the implication of this piece of information.

"Do you need me to leave? I can get the notes from someone else after," he offered quietly. It wouldn't do to create a scene in front of the entire class and there was no way he would divulge his situation to these fuckers.

"No, no. Please just take a seat."

Draco nodded stiffly and ignored the curious stares as he strode over to his seat next to Blaise, which was thankfully near the back of the class. He glared at anyone who dared to stare at him and when a few of them wouldn't relent, he snarled, "Keep looking and I'll burn your eyes to crisp."

"You plan on telling me after class what that was about?" Blaise leaned over and asked lowly.

Draco nodded and muttered out of the side of his mouth, "Things just got a lot more complicated."

"If it's any consolation, you're looking better now than you have in days."

That made Draco freeze, realization hitting him that for the first time since he could remember, his body wasn't aching in pain. This was the closest he felt to normal, and that was crazy because he'd been puking his guts up half an hour ago.

" - Mione, are you listening to me?"

Draco's head snapped to the side and he watched the ginger tumor trying to catch Granger's attention, but she was studiously ignoring him.

Draco watched as he leaned over to Pothead and heard him whisper, "It must be that time of the month. Makes her go more batty than usual, right Harry?"

Draco swallowed hard and lowered his gaze on his textbook before him. Then, without looking up, he mumbled to Blaise, "Did you hear Weasley talking just now?"

"Uh, no?" Blaise looked confused and his eyes flickered over to the redhead sitting in the front row, bent over fishing something out of his ratty schoolbag.

Draco nodded, more to himself, and resisted the temptation to pick his wand up and Avada himself right there.

Lupin took a few minutes to compose himself before starting the lesson and kept a large bar of chocolate in his left hand to nibble on.

"Now, you've studied vampires before but I thought we could brush up on the creatures before moving on to their distant cousins, Veelas, next week."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo, so here we see the dynamics of Draco and Hermione's relationship are different than expected and early marriages are an odd sort of Wizarding Tradition. Oh and hmm, I wonder what all that business about Draco smelling like a predator was? ;)
> 
> This is my chapter by far of all that I've written! What about you? 
> 
> Reviews are like hugs from our fav lil Malfoy, so do me a solid and lemme know what you thought! xoxo


	7. What Would Granger Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione just knows she smelt it and Pansy sets Draco straight.
> 
> _"The same blood he claimed to fight for, the purest of blood that ran through my veins, he spilt it like it was nothing."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
> Warning: If you don't want to read scenes involving the use of marijuana, skip over the beginning.  
>  _Remember, there's a reason for everything that happens in this fic. Enjoy!_

"Why are we not telling your parents?" Pansy complained.

"I second that," Theo piped up before anyone could answer her.

Blaise rolled his eyes and without looking up from his lap, he said, "Do you want to be the one to tell Narcissa Malfoy her precious son is dying of an unknown, possibly incurable, illness?"

"No, but you know what a Malfoy on the warpath is like. She'd burn everything in her way to find a cure and that's exactly what we need. A damn cure," she grumbled. "Right, Draco?"

Instead of replying, Draco let out a sigh and looked away from the calm waters of the Great Lake to mutter, "Hurry up, will you, Blaise."

Blaise's gaze was firmly fixed on his fingers as he carefully rolled the blunt he'd been working on and lifted it to his lips to lick the edge of the paper. Once he was satisfied with his work, he gestured for his friends to sit and used the tip of his want to light the spliff.

"Salazar, I love magical marijuana," he said under his breath after taking a hit.

"Pass that here," Pansy scowled, but her features smoothed away once the smoke filled her lungs. "This is honestly the best idea we've ever had."

"Cheers to our brilliance and deep pockets," Theo exclaimed before taking the blunt from her. "Here's to the rich getting richer, and the stupid getting stupider."

"What does that even mean?" Blaise chuckled.

"I think he's referring to the fact that wizards are falling over themselves to buy our products when they could easily get it for much cheaper in the muggle world," Pansy pointed out.

Draco waited until he'd taken a few hits before blowing the smoke towards the sky and finally speaking up, "Our weed is in a whole other league than the muggle kind. Once you've had a taste of this, you can never go back to that simple stuff. Besides, do you really think any of these people would go out into muggle London or even know where to start looking for a dealer?"

It was completely true, of course. In fifth year, the four Slytherin's had introduced marijuana to the Wizarding community and formed a small company as another branch of Malfoy Enterprises. They did so by combining magic with the muggle plant to create a drug so flavourful and diverse. They created about a hundred strains or so, each with a different type of high. It had been Blaise who'd come up with the idea while Draco and him were smoking on a beach in France. Draco excelled in potions, a skill that extended to chemically altering the muggle herb, and Blaise had a knack for working with legal documents and charming investors. Theo was staying with Draco that summer after a particularly nasty encounter with his father and loved to come up with weird combinations for Draco to create just so that he could test them out as well. For Pansy, it was a way to avoid her mother's lessons on how to run a household and ensnare a Malfoy, and it just so happened that she turned out to be a marketing guru. After the success of a drug that had barely touched the Wizarding world before then, they expanded their horizons with muggle alcohols. It was safe to say that no witch or wizard had expected there to be an entire world of alcohol. They'd been making due with Firewhisky for so long that when the assortment of brands of alcohols hit the markets, it hit with a giant mallet. Draco thought it was actually disgusting how much money the already rich Purebloods raked in with that.

"Is this helping though? With the pain and stuff?" Pansy asked, nodding at the blunt in Blaise's hands.

"A bit," Draco admitted. "Filch convinced Dumbledore to keep the doors to the Great Hall locked at night so I've had to use my broom to fly out of the courtyard. Bloody difficult with all those paintings and that blasted cat."

"Maybe if you explain to Dumbledore he'll give you permission?"

The three of them gave Theo incredulous looks, which he ignored in favour of slowly shredding a leaf into tiny pieces.

"He's the last person I want involved in my issues. The batty old fool will probably leave me to die and then use my corpse for experiments."

"In times like this, I think to myself, W.W.G.D."

"Uh, yeah, no more for you," Blaise remarked, leaning over to grab the blunt from Pansy.

She shot him a glare and held it out of reach, before realizing it was finished. Then, she pouted at her friend, but he rolled his eyes and lit another blunt. When he took a whiff instead of passing it to her, she pouted and stomped her foot.

"Who would gobble dicks?" Theo mused after a moment.

Draco burst into laughter, while Blaise stared at him with faint amusement. Pansy used the distraction to grab the blunt from Blaise's hand and reached over to pat Theo on the head.

"You poor, sweet child," she cooed.

"Rich," Theo said, rolling his eyes. "Poor, rich, sweet child. And I'm not a child."

"Careful, Pans. You're starting to turn into your mother."

Pansy looked aghast at Draco's words and snapped, "I'd rather join you on your deathbed."

"Who would grow dandelions?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "No, dearest Nott. What would Granger do?"

"Oh." Blaise looked mildly impressed and nodded to himself.

"Shit," Draco swore and threw down his finished blunt. Checking his watch, he groaned and rose to his feet, pulling out his wand to clean the dirt off his trousers. "Buck-tooth will strangle me if I'm late to for patrol."

"Even at half your strength you could take the mudblood," Pansy snorted. "Don't tell me you're scared of that swot."

Draco threw her a dirty look and scoffed, "I'm a Malfoy."

"Does he not realize that that's not an actual answer for everything?" Pansy wondered, watching the blond rush back to the castle.

"And yet it somehow works out as the best answer too," Blaise added.

"Library!" Theo exclaimed.

The other two looked at him questioningly and exchanged looks when he gestured wildly.

"Please take your time. We have all night to play this bloody game," Pansy muttered.

Theo sighed and shook his head at them. "That's the answer to your question, Pans. What would Granger do?"

"Library," Blaise and Pansy said at the same time, excitement beginning to spread across their faces.

Draco found the bushy-haired girl sitting on the steps outside the Great Hall, scribbling furiously onto a piece of parchment. He came to a stop before her and watched her for a moment before clearing his throat softly. She jumped and blood rushed to her face when her wide eyes took him in. He noted that she was rushing to shove the parchment into her robes before he could see what was written on it.

"You look awfully guilty," he remarked, arching a pale eyebrow at her flustered form. "Plotting to stab me in my sleep tonight?"

She shot him a glare and snapped, "No, I'm going to wait for when you least expect it."

"Good. I would be worried if you weren't up to par."

She snorted and said, "Yeah, right. Draco Malfoy worried about me?"

"Worried in regards to you, not about you," he countered lightly.

"This illness must really be getting to your head," she mused, shaking her head. He stared at those wild curls that flew around at their own accord, mesmerized by that mess of varying shades of warm brown. Medusa…perhaps if she were in Slytherin he could even dare say her hair resembled that of Medusa's. Except not as deadly. Or creepy. Or slippery. Or scaly.

"Malfoy?"

"Hmm?" He broke out of his thoughts and realized he been staring at her hair while they walked and missed what she'd just said.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Lint," he blurted out before panic could claw up his throat. "Your - uh - hair has a piece of - you know."

He watched her run her nimble fingers through her hair, her brows furrowed in concentration. Eventually, he decided to put her out of her misery and reached out to remove the nonexistent piece of lint. He mimed tossing it to the side and cleared his throat.

"Why are you so flushed?" she noticed, looking at him weirdly.

"I - no - why do you ask so many questions?" he retorted, his cheeks pinking as he realized just how antsy weed made him.

"Do you smell that?" she interrupted, her cute little nose twitching. He eyed her with fascination, wondering if she was aware how rabbit-like that particular mannerism of hers was. "Malfoy? Tell me I'm not losing my mind. There's no way I'm actually smelling marijuana in Hogwarts of all places."

"You - what?" He stepped away unconsciously and looked everywhere except at her.

"Um, it's a muggle pla-"

"I know what it is," he cut her off shortly, kind of annoyed that she thought he wouldn't know something so basic.

"Oh, so do you sm -"

Three figures came bounding down that hall, not bothering to slow down at the shouts of both the Head students.

"No running in the halls!" Granger yelled.

"What are you lot up to? Where's the bloody fire?"

"Kitchens," Theo huffed out. "Cheesecake."

"Library," Pansy called over her shoulder.

"Do you even know where that is?" Draco retorted.

"Come find us after," Blaise added.

"Fuck you," Pansy panted loudly before turning the corner.

"Your friends are definitely odd," Granger finally said after a moment of stunned silence. "And don't think it hasn't occurred to me that if it were Harry and Ron running by like that you wouldn't hesitate to take points off."

"Watch it, Granger. You take any points from Slytherin and I'll be sure to return the favour with Gryffindor twice as hard," he scowled, ignoring the fact that her nose was beginning to twitch again. "Come on, we still have quite a bit to go."

"I knew I smelt it," he heard her mutter to herself.

He quickened his pace, leaving her to hurry to catch up to him.

"Are you ever going to explain that first DADA class?" she asked after a couple minutes of beautiful silence.

He sighed. "No."

"I deserve to know."

"No, you don't."

"What do you mean? It was my body on the fl-"

"Can you ever keep your big mouth shut?"

"Can you be honest for once, you lousy git?"

He barked out a laugh, his lips pulled up into a sneer.

"Honest? I'm a big, bad Slytherin. Don't you know? I'll twist words on my silver tongue and seduce your panties off."

It didn't escape his notice that her cheeks flushed at his last words. It always gave him a sick sense of satisfaction that the Gryffindor Princess was affected by him. Like a personal victory over Pothead and Weaselbee.

"Disgusting pig." She kept her eyes ahead.

"Bossy harpy," he retorted. At least when she was arguing she didn't ask questions.

At the end of their patrol, they neared the library on their way back to the Head dorms and that was when she finally broke the silent treatment.

"Your friends are waiting," she reminded him, nodding at the big double doors and slowing her pace.

He shook his head and gestured for her to keep going. "They can wait some more. I'm walking you back to our common room first."

"That's suspiciously chivalrous of you, big, bad Slytherin," she remarked, looking pleasantly surprised.

"I'm a Malfoy and an aristocrat such as myself would never allow a young witch to walk these halls at night," he said nonchalantly, his lips beginning to curve into his usual smirk.

"I can protect myself," she protested quickly. "I'm not a weak damsel."

Not bothering to point out that it would take him a bare second to disarm her and have her pinned against the nearest wall, he said, "Weasley has the manners of a troll and so I can't fault you for your lack of knowledge of proper pureblood societal protocol. Besides, Mother would have my hide if I didn't ensure the lady got home safely."

Though she turned away to hide it, he saw the small smile that graced her lips. It really was a shame that she was only ever exposed to the atrocious manners of either muggles or a Weasley. Any self-respecting witch knew that a gentleman - even a roguish one like himself - would accompany her to ensure her safety.

Arriving at their common room, they parted ways to their own rooms. Draco grabbed his school bag, figuring if he was going to the library he might as well get some work done. It was nearing closing time for the library but he was surprised the Head girl wasn't holed up in the library every night like he expected her to be.

He found his friends in a secluded corner, closed in by towering shelves and enjoying the warmth of an ornate fireplace. Theo was laid out on his stomach in front of the hearth, stacks of books next to him while he perused a large textbook and shoved a large slice of cheesecake into his mouth. Blaise was stretched out on a couch, his ankles crossed and an open book resting on his stomach. Pansy was curled up on an armchair, scribbling away furiously on a piece of parchment that rested against one side of an open, thick book.

"Are you guys seriously wasting your high on studying?" he asked, tossing his bag aside and picking up one of Theo's books. "Dark Magic of Wizarding Ancient Egypt?"

"Oi, that's my 'already read' pile. Put it back before I waste another half hour skimming that snore-fest," Theo said, looking up at him with a scowl. "Besides, I'm already coming down."

"Grab a book and get started," Pansy said without pausing from her frantic writing.

"Get started on what?"

The three of them exchanged glances and Pansy said, "I've got this."

Finally putting her quill down, she rose to her feet and cautiously approached Draco like one would with a wild animal.

"We're researching this - this thing that's going on with you," she said, her nose scrunching up at the word 'thing.'

"Pans, really? I don't think -" Draco began to say exasperatedly, but he was cut off by the look of disgust on her face.

"Are you kidding me?" she cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "You're throwing in the towel, just like that?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" he argued, his tone making it clear he didn't appreciate her nosing around his problems.

"Find your balls and fix this!" she snapped and stepped forward. Poking her sharp, manicured nails at his chest, she growled, "You're Draco fucking Malfoy. I never thought you'd been one to run with your tail between your legs, but clearly I overestimated you. Don't be such a bloody coward and do what you're always good at. And just in case you've forgotten what that is, it's finding a way to get what you want. Definitely not sitting back and rotting to death."

"I never told you to place me on a pedestal," he snarled, narrowing his steel eyes down at her. "We fought a fucking war and that changes people."

"War didn't make you a coward. You did!" she yelled, refusing to back down. "I know the Dark Lord fucked you up, trust me I know. I see the darkness in you. I know you're afraid of losing control. But are you seriously going to let that be the reason you're acting like an idiot Weasley? Draco Malfoy doesn't sit back and let life fuck him over. No! Draco Malfoy makes the rules and fucks life over, everyone else be damned. The Draco Malfoy I grew up admiring would look Death in the face and tell him to go screw himself. Every time there's been an issue, with any of us, you're always the first one to take action. That brilliant, cunning mind of yours is always finding ways to keep the chessboard in your favour, thinking ten steps ahead. So what's different now? Your logical, incredible brain should be elated to have a challenge for once."

The dark-haired girl was breathing heavily by the end of her tirade and her face was screwed up in frustration. She craned her neck to keep eye contact with him, trying to communicate with her dark eyes. She watched as a myriad of emotions flashed in his eyes, the only place anyone could see through his emotionless demeanour. Anger. Disbelief. Shock. Confusion. And finally…resolve.

"Fuck, Pans," he muttered before turning and punching the stone wall.

Neither of his friends even flinched, having seen him lose his temper plenty of times before. This time however, his hand wasn't the only casualty. Theo got to his feet and peered closely at the large, bloody crack Draco had caused.

"Uh, Draco? What are the odds you're turning into a giant?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Tell me you're joking," he muttered, falling back into an armchair and clutching his aching hand to his chest. "This is literally the first day in weeks that I've felt close to normal and then all this happens."

"I think it's time you tell us everything," Blaise finally spoke up. "What happened with Lupin?"

"Wait," Pansy interrupted when Draco opened his mouth to answer. "Let me write this down. We need all the information if we're going to solve this mystery."

"Mystery," Theo snorted. "What are you now? A private investigator?"

She threw him a dirty look and gestured with her quill for Draco to begin.

And so he did, beginning with the nightmares he'd been getting every single night since the Dark Lord moved into his house. How the aches from his injuries never actually stopped, instead changing in the location on his body every few days. Shivers constantly ran down his spine, and yet his pallor remained feverish. He still recalled quite vividly the way his bones protested painfully one morning to his sudden increase in height. He even admitted that despite his sickly condition, he'd been getting stronger in the past couple weeks. It had been quite an adjustment period in getting used to his own strength - Salazar knows how many priceless Malfoy heirlooms had met an unfortunate end by his hands in the past month. It was a strange sensation to be very strong physically and yet crippled by the constant torture you faced.

 "You don't smell any different," Theo said decidedly after leaning over to sniff him.

"Of course not. A wolf can detect all kinds of things your human nose can't," Blaise remarked dryly.

"This is…this is good," Pansy said excitedly, her hand moving frantically across the page. "Now did you do anything different right before DADA?"

"No," Draco said with a frown, thinking over the events of the past day. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Could his scent change or momentary good health have anything to do with the potions he's been messing around with?" Blaise asked, ignoring the dirty look the blond gave him.

"I don't know about the scent thing but his symptoms suddenly disappearing a few hours ago? Maybe," she said.

"No, that's not how potions work. As far as I know, it would take something very potent to change someone's scent. It's distinct for every person, unique to their biological makeup," Draco said, staggering back and falling into the sofa. "There was a book in the Manor library that explained this concept called 'pheromones'. It's one of those muggle science things. Remember all the research we did on biochemistry back when we were creating our weed?"

"Biochemistry? That's the one that studies how our bodies work and the chemicals that are responsible for that pale blonde hair being passed down the Malfoy line?" Pansy asked.

"Maybe we should be asking Granger for help?" Theo suggested, looking confused. "She's got the muggle and magical knowledge."

"How would muggle concepts explain magical illnesses?" Blaise countered.

Theo's frown deepened and he cautiously said, "I think we're dealing with something a lot bigger than we can handle."

Draco swallowed hard and shook his head. Steeling his composure, he straightened up and reached for the parchment in Pansy's lap. "No, she's right. Sitting around and waiting for me croak isn't going cut it. We're going to figure this out once and for all. Or at least die trying."

Blaise cracked a smile but Pansy shook her head at Draco's dark humour. Theo didn't look convinced, instead looking around helplessly.

"If I can survive Voldemort turning me into a monster, then I can endure this as well."

Blaise suddenly sat up at Draco's words and stared at him with wide eyes. Without saying anything, he grabbed the parchment in Draco's hands and read it over carefully. Nodding to himself, he looked up at his confused friends and waved the parchment around in the air.

"I can't believe we missed this before. Maybe if you hadn't been moping," he gasped and arched a brow in Draco's direction.

"Are you going to tell us already?" Pansy said impatiently.

"You said Snape lost his shit over your dreams and occulomency? He said it had everything to do with your problem, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Despite his doubtful words, Draco was leaning forward with eyes anxious.

"Guys, we're ignoring the most important piece of information of all. All of this began with the Dark Lord nearly killing you in an attempt to make you his successor. Even Lupin thought so. The methods he used, they all involved occulomency, did they not? What if whatever he did to you isn't over and it's worsening over time?" Blaise wondered, his dark eyes trailing over all of them before coming to rest on Draco. "You need to tell us everything he did to you."

His reaction was instant - face closed off and tremors rocking down his spine. He shut his eyes tightly against the onslaught of memories, but it was useless considering he lived through it again every night. Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, he shook his head tightly.

"I wouldn't ask if it weren't necessary," Blaise added quietly.

"It's bad enough I had to endure all that. You three don't need to hear it," Draco insisted roughly. "It's gruesome. Not something that can be unheard."

"If roles were reversed, you'd ask the same of me because you know it's the only way to fix this," Blaise insisted. "Let me do this for you. Please, brother."

Draco watched the resolve the covered their anxious faces, so eager they were to suffer just to help him. He hadn't told anyone before now, but Blaise knew pieces - the least horrific ones. Theo, precious little Theo, had lived a miserable life and knew pain better than most people. Out of them all, Pansy was the least touched by darkness and it killed him to be the one to taint her soul now.

"Fear," he grunted out, leaning back into the sofa and staring blankly up at the ceiling. "It was always about fear with him. He wanted me to conquer pain, which he claimed was simply in the mind. He actually believed that if one could overcome pain in face of fear, they would be unbeatable."

None of them said anything when he paused to let out a heavy breath. Slytherins knew better than anyone that the best way to get someone to talk was to remain quiet.

"I - I can't tell you the specifics. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to choke the words out without throwing up," Draco said firmly, the muscles in his neck visibly tense. "He would inflict so much pain that I would be thrown into my own mind, trapped until he willed it. It was in there, in my own fucking head, that he would force me to endure the most loathsome tasks. Then, when it was over, I would wake up with broken bones in a pool of my own blood. The same blood he claimed to fight for, the purest of blood that ran through my veins, he spilt it like it was nothing."

He hesitated, feeling as the aches returned to his cold bones. His shoulder blades burned as cold daggers pressing into his spine. He was looking forward to a scathing hot shower after this.

"When I showed up at the Order's doorstep with Granger, I was very nearly dead. There were so many gashes on my body…I had been _drained_ of my precious blood," he sneered. Ignoring Pansy's gasp, he swallowed hard and ploughed on. "I should have died. Dark magic prevented the wounds from healing and it took them three weeks to stabilize me enough to say that I had a chance of surviving."

Their faces mirrored the revulsion that shuddered through their bodies at his words.

"Draco, fuck, I'm sorry, but what did he do to you in your mind?" Blaise interjected softly.

Draco frowned and muttered, "There was a beast, each time."

"A beast?" Theo repeated, sounding utterly confused. "Like a werewolf?"

"Worse. He towered over me and he stalked through the maze I'd created to protect my mind. He would maul me to death before I could find a way to escape. There was no escape, except…," he trailed off, wondering once again what he'd done to deserve something so awful.

"Except?" Pansy repeated in a hushed voice.

"The Dark Lord would tell me to perform the most atrocious tasks and unless I did, I would be trapped in there until the beast ate me alive. In the beginning, I fought back, I didn't want to do those _things_ ," he spat out and shuddered as he recalled the crimes he had committed. "But eventually, I wasn't strong enough. I just wanted it to be over so he'd throw me back into my cell. The things I did, you don't understand. They were horrid, horrid acts and I'm going to burn in the deepest pits of hell for it."

"It wasn't your fault, Draco. You know that, right? He would've tortured your mother to death and made you watch if you didn't comply."

Draco shook his head and looked up at his friends, imploring them to understand. "You don't get it. That's not it." Darkness filled the lines of his face and his voice took on a rough tenor as he murmured, "Some sick part of me enjoyed it. Not the acts themselves, but that rush of adrenaline. That amount of power, you can't imagine how it feels flowing through your veins."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the overwhelming response to the previous chapter. You guys loved it! Well I hope you this one as well, so please let me know if you did.


	8. Lies and Crucio's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ginny runs into an Italian stallion and Draco remembers the night the stars clashed and and how even the sound thunder couldn't mask Hermione's screams. 
> 
> _"Marriage is a sacred union of two souls. It's an Unbreakable Vow and not even death can do you part. You're binding your soul to another, the kind of ancient magic that transcends mortality or any other institution. If your witch is unhappy, you don't just let her walk away. No, you uphold your vows and destroy the cause of her misery."_
> 
> _Hermione's heart thudded painfully in her chest and her mouth had run dry. She stared into those charcoal eyes, submerging herself in their abyss. Malfoy kept a perfectly constructed mask on at all times, but one glance at his eyes gave away the feelings he locked up. As he spoke, she could see promises swimming in his eyes, a dark sort of protectiveness that she couldn't identify._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.  
> Warning: Explicit torture

Just minutes after Malfoy left the common room, Ginny came knocking at the portrait and refused to leave without Hermione.

"Technically I have up to two years to choose a husband, but the boys in your year are much more interesting. I'll have to make a decision before they graduate."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Ginny? You're still so young and you've got a whole career ahead of you," Hermione tried to reason with her.

"I can be a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies even after I'm married. I'm definitely going to give my career a shot before having kids."

"Oh, that's probably best," she said faintly, thinking back to the conversation she overheard in the boys washroom that afternoon.

Ginny led them to an empty charms classroom and locked the door before casting a silencing charm. She gestured for the Head girl to take a seat and perched up on the edge of a desk herself.

"I couldn't wait for tomorrow morning to have this conversation," she said apologetically. "I won't be able to sleep with all these thoughts swirling in my head."

Hermione shook her head and smiled bitterly, "Don't worry. I get it."

"Does that nauseated look on your face have anything to do with my blockhead brother?" At her look of surprise, Ginny reached over to pat her hand reassuringly. "I figured as much when I saw you ignoring him all throughout dinner. Even Harry too. What did those two do now?"

"It's…don't worry about it," she said quickly and plastered a smile to her face. "Who do you have in mind, then?"

Thankfully, Ginny was all too eager to talk about her prospective beaus and did so for more than an hour. Hermione tried to be a good friend and listen with rapt attention, but she found her thoughts drifting to her two best friends repeatedly. She was having a hard time wrapping her head around the way they viewed her to be a meek bookworm. Even Malfoy, their supposed enemy for the past six years, knew her better than that.

"So the plan is that I give it another shot with Dean? He's a great kisser and a nice enough bloke," Ginny finally decided, nodding to herself. "Wow, life was a whole lot easier when I was crushing on The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Hermione chuckled and nodded, thinking that life was a whole lot easier when she hated Malfoy.

"Come on, Gin. We missed curfew and being with the Head Girl won't be enough to get you out of detention if Filch catches us."

"Thanks so much, Hermione. I really needed this. You're the only one with a rational head around here and the rest of the Gryffindor girls would tell me to pick the prettiest and richest guy," Ginny said as they crept through the halls.

Hermione frowned and coughed out, "You mean, marry Malfoy?"

Ginny paused and looked over at her friend with an incredulous look on her face. "As if he would willingly get within two inches of me. The Malfoys would marry a half-blood before a Weasley. Besides, I don't think I could deal with his nasty mouth and arsehole personality for an entire lifetime."

Hermione nearly opened her mouth to say he wasn't that bad, but then shut it with a frown.

"The next couple months are going to be wild, what with the war finally over. Percy set the date for his wedding and now the heat is on Fred and George to find witches for themselves," she said excitedly as she following the Head Girl through the portrait hole and then stopped dead in her tracks.

"The divorce rates must be insane with all these young marriages," Hermione remarked, unfazed by the sight before her.

The Head Boy was sprawled in an armchair with a book in hand while his two friends were scattered over the rest of the furniture. There was a large pile of books on the coffee table before them, along with a tray of snacks. Parkinson looked up from the book she was taking notes from and scowled at the Gryffindors.

"I told you we should've just went to the Slytherin common room," she sneered, shaking her head and going back to her work.

"And risk anyone else seeing what we're doing?" Malfoy said without looking up. "Isn't it well past your bedtime, Granger?"

"What are you, her father?" Ginny piped in, glaring at the blonde.

The effect was instantaneous and all three Slytherins recoiled in disgust.

"Do _not_ ever again compare me to a filthy muggle," Malfoy growled.

Ginny looked over to see Hermione's reaction and was surprised to see her just roll her eyes.

"Wait here, Gin. I'll just get changed and until then, can you set the kettle to boil?" she called over her shoulder as she made her way up the stairs.

Ginny nodded and headed over to the quaint kitchenette, stopping short when she came face to face with a broad chest. Craning her neck, she flushed and swallowed hard when dark eyes bore into her own. Thick lashes framed those lust-filled irises and a sly grin crept onto that handsome face.

"Well, hello there," the dark-skinned Italian purred.

"Zabini," she said shortly. "Could you please move?"

"Hmm, I don't know about that. I'm awfully comfortable here."

"Blaise, would you leave the bloody cheesecake and come help out?" Parkinson's shrill voice broke through the tension between them.

It was then that Ginny noticed the large cheesecake in one hand and the plate in his other. He smiled wickedly and stepped aside, gesturing for her to pass by. She nodded her thanks and ducked away from his towering form, praying her face wasn't as red as her hair.

When Hermione returned, she had Ginny head to the living room while she prepared their tea. The redhead was flushed and awkwardly followed her instructions, leaving Hermione confused. Hermione steadily walked out of the kitchenette, focused on not spilling the full mugs in her hands. Ginny had chosen the only sofa that hadn't been taken by a Slytherin and it happened to be slightly angled away from them. Hermione could feel the Head Boy's eyes on her as she settled into her seat and when she risked a glance over at him, sure enough, he was glaring at her.

"What do you think you're doing, Granger."

"Actually, I thought I was sharing a common room with fellow adults mature enough to contain their prejudiced opinions," she retorted, rolling her eyes when his scowl deepened.

"That might be difficult considering how much space that rats nest on your big head takes up."

"No more than your ginormous ego does."

"Can't help it if every part of me is so big," he leered.

"You ought to recheck your definition of big."

"You -"

"Hold on, Draco," Nott interrupted, holding up a quill. "Granger, what the hell is a fellyfone?"

"Telephone," she corrected automatically. "It's a device used to communicate over long distances."

Nott nodded and eagerly scribbled down as she spoke. "Thanks. Continue your foreplay, you two."

Hermione coughed out the sip of tea she'd just taken and Malfoy's eyebrows retreated into his hairline. Zabini and Ginny looked merely amused, while Pansy had a disgusted look on her face.

"Don't make me hurl, Theo," she grumbled, throwing another dirty look at Hermione.

"Blaise, make sure we skip Theo next time we share one. The fumes have clearly gone to his head."

Hermione looked at Malfoy oddly but found him ignoring her studiously.

"Wait, what does a microwave do if it's not used to communicate long distance?" Nott broke the awkward silence.

Hermione was having a hard time holding her laughter and managed to choke out, "It's for heating up your food."

"Oh, that does make more sense than muggles only eating cold foods," he muttered to himself, but Hermione heard and shook her head amusedly.

"You don't have to be such a bitch about this, Granger," Parkinson grumbled, glaring over her book.

"Excuse me?"

"Doesn't it go against your Gryffindor moral code to laugh at someone struggling with a subject they know nothing about?"

Silence, thick, heavy silence. Hermione stared at Pansy with an undecipherable expression, ignoring the pleading looks Nott was sending the dark-haired girl.

"Nott, I wasn't laughing at you, I mean it," she finally spoke, turning to smile politely at the boy in question. "It's just, you've got to understand, this would be the equivalent of me asking what a cauldron or wand does. It's not you I'm laughing at, it's the fact that the tables are turned for once."

Nott shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, when Zabini cut in with a loud groan.

"You're such a bloody Gryffindor, Granger. If you start listening to everything Pansy says, you'll never stop explaining yourself."

Before Hermione could retort, Malfoy let out a deep sigh and glared at his book as he spoke, "Could the lot of you focus on what we're doing before I kneel over?

Noticing Ginny's confusion, Hermione wracked her brain for a distraction. She knew Malfoy didn't want anyone else knowing of his predicament and he would most definitely blame her for Ginny finding out, even if it was because of his fat mouth.

"You should probably warn Ron before he loses it over you dating a bunch of guys."

Ginny made a face. "You make it sound like I'm planning to date multiple guys at once."

"Well, that would be the most efficient way of…you know," Hermione offered.

"No, I want to give it a fair shot with each guy. After all, I'll be spending my entire life with him."

Hermione grimaced and said, "Unless you divorce him."

Ginny stared at her blankly.

Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach and she choked out, "Don't say it."

"What's divorce?" the redhead asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Hermione groaned and hit her head against the back of the sofa. Her one consolation with this entire barbaric business of premature marriages was that if a couple didn't work out, they could always just go their separate ways.

"Is it that bad?" Ginny sounded utterly confused.

"Ugh, no," Hermione said glumly. "I guess wizards haven't moved past the Middle Ages. I shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

"Huh?"

"Divorce is this miraculous thing where if you and your spouse aren't happy together, you can dissolve your marriage."

Ginny wasn't the only one who jumped back in shock with a scandalized look on her face. All four Slytherins stared with disbelief and disgust written all over their features.

"And you wonder why we hate muggles," Parkinson was the first one to break the tense silence.

"Thank Merlin I was born a wizard," Nott muttered.

"Why are you lot so freaked out?" Hermione frowned.

It was Malfoy who answered, his quiet voice resonating around the room and catching everyone's attention immediately. His tone was as if explaining something as basic as the sky being blue to a child. "Marriage is a sacred union of two souls. It's an Unbreakable Vow and not even death can do you part. You're binding your soul to another, the kind of ancient magic that transcends mortality or any other institution. If your witch is unhappy, you don't just let her walk away. No, you uphold your vows and destroy the cause of her misery."

Hermione's heart thudded painfully in her chest and her mouth had run dry. She stared into those charcoal eyes, submerging herself in their abyss. Malfoy kept a perfectly constructed mask on at all times, but one glance at his eyes gave away the feelings he locked up. As he spoke, she could see promises swimming in his eyes, a dark sort of protectiveness that she couldn't identify.

"Is that - is that what all purebloods believe?" Hermione asked after clearing her throat uncomfortably.

"The Marriage Vow is the most respected of ancient magic and cannot be overridden by anything," Malfoy added with a shrug. "We purebloods are all about tradition and respecting our magical roots."

"Actually, Veela mating bonds are the only thing that can break a Marriage Vow," Nott piped up, much to everyone's surprise. "Veelas mate with their soul's perfect match, and actually, some say their souls are two halves of the same one."

Zabini snorted and remarked, "I'm not Sacred Twenty-Eight and my mother's been married eight times so you can imagine the sort of marriage ideals I was raised with."

"Consider this, Granger," Parkinson said, straightening up and abandoning the book on her lap. "Families like the Malfoys, Parkinsons, and Notts all have one kid, and we're all ridiculously spoiled. I won't even deny that. We never actually learned how to share, so how can you expect us to be okay with our spouse leaving us for another?"

Zabini snickered and added, "Even better, Malfoys get whatever they want at all costs, and if they don't, they find a way to take it. In that case, the witch who catches Draco's eye is wholly screwed. There's no getting away from this possessive bastard."

Instead of scowling like Hermione expected, Malfoy simply rolled his eyes and returned to his book. It was Parkinson who tossed her ink bottle at the Italian's head, but his hand shot up to catch the object before it could break and spill ink all over him.

"Speaking of, shouldn't you be engaged by now, Malfoy?" Ginny spoke up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Yes, Weaslette, I had loads of time to fall in love between the Dark Lord moving into my home and being tortured to death," he said drily.

Exchanging glances, Hermione mouthed "love" to the redhead in confusion.

"I thought purebloods were all about arranged marriages."

"Oh, we are, but regardless of who we marry, the union is as real as it gets," Parkinson said, a small smile gracing her lips.

"You're not a Malfoy unless you break rules and Draco decided he'd break the biggest one by marrying for love instead," Zabini said cheerfully, grinning when his friend glared at him. With a quick wave of his wand, Malfoy transfigured Zabini's mouth into a bill that would've fit perfectly on a duck.

"Should've practiced nonverbal magic if you planned on skipping lessons on how to keep secrets," Malfoy snapped when Zabini waved his arms around angrily.

"Both my parents are dead so I can marry a Hippogriff for all it matters," Nott offered.

"I'm gonna head back now, Hermione. I think my mind is finally calm enough to sleep, you know, despite how strange this entire experience has been. I can't wait to see the look on my brother's face when he finds out you're friendly with Slytherins," Ginny said, placing her empty mug on the table and leaning over to hug her friend. She glanced at Zabini from the corner of her eye and called over her shoulder as she headed to the portrait, "Goodnight Hermione and company."

"What does an air conditioner do?"

"It blasts cold air to keep you cool when it's hot indoors."

"Really, Theo? Your best friend is dying and you're worried about homework?" Parkinson cried incredulously.

Nott looked at Malfoy and said, "Sorry, mate, but I doubt they'll count your death as an acceptable reason for not finishing this assignment."

Malfoy's lips curled into an amused smirk and Hermione swore she saw a hint of fondness in his eyes when he looked at Nott.

"Wait, is that what you're doing? Searching for a cure for your sickness?" Hermione interrupted when she fully comprehended Parkinson's words.

"She knows?" the dark-haired girl snarled, whipping her head around to face Malfoy accusingly. When he ignored her in favour of the Gryffindor, Parkinson raised her wand to transform Zabini's mouth back to normal.

"Cure, cause, anything works at this point," Malfoy drawled, rolling his eyes at his friend's petty behaviour.

"Thank you, Pans. Huh, why didn't we think of going to Granger before? She's got the entire library in that bushy hair of hers," Zabini said exasperatedly.

"It's bushy because of all the knowledge its holding," Malfoy snickered.

"You're a master at backhanded compliments," Hermione mused.

"And more. But wait, was that a compliment, Princess?"

"Never." Her lips twitched and eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Ugh, you two are nauseating," Parkinson groaned.

"I think they're quite cute. Like two irate bow truckles doing a mating dance," Nott commented.

"Malfoys don't do cute," he stated with a roll of his eyes.

"What have you found so far?" Hermione questioned.

"Wow, so grateful to have the war heroine offering her much renowned services," Parkinson said sarcastically.

Hermione ignored the bitter-faced girl and focused her attention on the man that was running the show. He was staring back at her, his gaze speculative, and she could see the battle in his eyes. His every instinct screamed for him to cuss her out and throw her offer of help back at her, but that small part of him that was still back in those dungeons under Malfoy Manor - it trusted her.

"I didn't realize you were so buddy-buddy with the Gryffindor Princess," Zabini remarked curiously.

"We're not friends," Malfoy stated without looking away from her.

"I don't have to be your friend to help you out."

"Why are you even bothering with all this?" he asked, his eyes furrowed but the challenge was clear in his eyes. "I won't be a victim of your sick hero complex."

"Malfoy, you didn't survive Voldemort's wrath just to be defeated by some bizarre illness." She crossed her arms across her chest and insisted, "I won't allow it."

A pale eyebrow arched and pink lips curved into a familiar smirk. "Oh?"

"You heard me."

His eyes swept over her, taking in her defiant stance and stubborn pout. In one graceful move, he leapt to his feet and slowly approached her. When he was a mere inch from her, his eyes turned cold and a sneer graced his lips. She resisted the urge to step back, despite her instincts blaring alarms in her head. While she truly believed that Malfoy wouldn't hurt her, she couldn't deny the aura of danger that clung to him. As sick and weak he was now, she knew he was still capable of breaking her in half. She could still feel his arms locked around her, holding her back from storming out of the bathroom stall. His grip had been so solid, like pressing against a brick wall.

"What do you think this is, Granger? What makes you think you have the right to interfere in my life, to make such demands of a Malfoy?" His voice was acidic, the words dripping from his tongue like poison. "You think just because we were stuck together in the Manor, we're somehow allies now? That you now have the right to pretend you _care_?"

Her temper flared and in a steely voice, she said, "Unlike you, I have an actual heart so I don't have to pretend."

"Waste your pity on someone who actually needs it," he said with a shrug. When her expression remained determined, he felt the urge to punch somebody. What would it take to get the stupid wench to back off and leave him alone? As it always was with her, he'd have to take the low road. "I said it back then and I'll say it again. I could care less if you died this very moment. Nothing has changed, so don't forget your place, mudblood."

She flinched, if only for a fraction of a second. He nearly missed it.

"You're disgusting," she finally spat out. Her features were stony, but he could see the hurt in her dark eyes. "If this is what it takes to get you to sleep at night, then so be it. I hope you choke on your own denial, you foul git."

 _Liar!_ Her eyes screamed at him, berating him for speaking words he didn't actually mean. They both knew nothing would ever be the same. The entire game had been flipped onto its top and now they were scrambling to find some semblance of stability.

"Why would you do that? If anyone can find answers, it's her," Blaise questioned incredulously after she slammed her bedroom door shut behind her.

"Forget it, Blaise. We don't need the mudblood," Pansy said, looking much more cheerful now. "You did the right thing, Draco."

Draco nodded, sinking back into his seat with an ache forming in his chest. Funny, it didn't feel like he did the right thing.

"Whatever your personal vendetta is against her, you need to drop it, Pans. This is a different world, now. Learn to adapt if you want to save face."

"She's a miserable mudblood," Pansy insisted, stressing the last word. "I will not suck up to a prissy, know-it-all, Gryffindor bitch just because she's best friends with the Wizarding World's saviour. You think that just because she's got the highest grades of our year, the rest of us are idiots?"

"It's bigger than just this. I can't be the Minister of Magic if I'm dropping that word at every turn. Think about what that means for you."

"We're still considered nobility in the Wizarding World. Our word is pretty much law," she reminded him.

"Haven't you heard? Muggle-borns are all the rage this season," Blaise remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"I don't get it," Theo interrupted and sat up on his heels. "When you told us what she was like down there with you, I could've sworn you respected her. But now…."

"Respect a mudblood?" Pansy snorted in disbelief.

"Draco, don't be mad, but I really think you'd care if she died," Theo added cautiously. "At the very least, you'd be displeased."

"What are we now? Fuckin' Hufflepuffs?" Draco snapped. His head was beginning to pound and he was so, so tired.

"Draco -"

"Can you three see yourselves out? I can't do this tonight," he cut Theo off sharply. Getting to his feet, he gathered the books around him into a pile and stretched out his limbs with a wince. "I need a Painless Potion before I jinx somebody."

That night, his nightmares took him back to the worst day of his life.

" _Where's Potter? Where is he, you filthy mudblood?"_

" _I - I don't k-know. We got s-separated. Please!"_

" _Crucio!" His aunt's shrill laughter echoed around the room, dousing him with cold dread for the girl lying on the carpet._

_Her body was twisting into the most convoluted shapes. He could feel bile rising in his throat but he couldn't look away from the screaming witch long enough to purge his insides. Her mouth was stretched wide open with her non-stop shrieks and already there was blood drooling out of the sides. Fuck, that crack must've been a rib; there's no way anyone can bend their body so far back without breaking a bone._

" _Disgusting pigs. The lot of you. Look at you. Even farm animals are worth more than the mud that runs in your veins."_

_Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt the pain of his nails digging into his palms, but the rest of him was paralyzed with fear. The stupid, stupid girl. Why the fuck would she allow herself to get caught? Only second to Potter, the Dark Lord was eager to see her insides spread out before him._

" _Tell me where your precious Chosen One is before I start carving you inside out." Another symphony of screams. Salazar, just make it stop, he begged_ _silently_. " _It's not nice to touch things that aren't yours, filth."_

" _I-I didn't," she gasped out._

_His aunt's face lit up with sadistic glee. "You dare speak back? To me? You're worse than the dirt under my shoes. How dare you forget your place, stupid girl. Uh uh uh. Liars must be punished."_

_His eyes locked on the writhing body on the floor, he began muttering furiously under his breath. He prayed he remembered the incantation correctly and that his wandless magic would work when it felt like his entire body was burning in hell. Thankfully, everyone was too fixated on the horrific scene playing out before them to notice what he was doing._

_When his aunt pulled Granger's arm towards herself and raised her wand, he felt his stomach drop to the ground in horror. The spell he'd been usin_ g _to siphon off a portion of the pain suddenly went haywire and he nearly hunched over in agony himself. His forearm seared with pain and the smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils. Scrunching up his face in concentration, he pushed the pain aside and focused on taking a share of the hell she was enduring._

Come on, Granger. You're stronger than this, _he whispered into her mind._

_For one terrifyin_ _g moment, it felt like she was too far gone to comprehend through the pain and that her mind had completely broken. But then he felt it, a fuzzy thread that connected them_ _and told him that she was still alive. She could still make it through this. If anyone could, it would be the overachieving Gryffindor._

Don't you fucking dare let her win, Hermione. _His frustration slipped through the connection, the pain making it difficult to control everything all at once. The sharp pounding at his temples was quickly overtaking his senses but he didn't dare lessen the bond by even a fraction. He'd be damned if he let her death be on his conscious._

He woke up thrashing and screaming. Tangled up in the blankets, Draco's body convulsed fearfully before falling over the edge of the bed. The force of hitting the ground shook him with the realization that he was in his room, thousands of kilometres and months away from that horrific night. Still struggling to even gasp for air, he hunched over on his knees and emptied up the measly contents of his stomach. Once his body had been purged, leaving behind a sharp ache in his abdomen, he wrenched his body up to grab his wand from beside his pillow.

Even under the boiling hot water of his shower, he shivered violently and scrubbed at his skin furiously to rid himself of the taint of his memories. Even when his skin turned pink, only the slick sheen of cold sweat had gone, leaving behind the disgust that rose in his throat. There was a noose around his neck and no amount of muttering, "It's over. She's safe. The bastard's dead," could loosen it.

A frustrated wail escaped his lips and he sank to the floor. With his arms wrapped around his knees, he finally allowed his tears to escape in the obscurity of the water raining down over him. He didn't know how long he sat there, regardless of his fingers beginning to prune or the numbness that was sweeping through his lower body. It was only when he heard sounds of movement from Granger's room that the haze around him began to lift.

"Just two more days, Hermione, and then you can sleep in like normal people," she muttered as she sluggishly dragged her feet to her wardrobe.

His head snapped up in the direction of the door connecting their shared bathroom to her room and he winced at the cracking of his stiff bones. Despite having heard her as clearly as if she were standing next to him, he could tell that her words had been no louder than a whisper.

This snapped him out of his stupor and he forced himself to get moving before the harpy came knocking. Rushing out of the portrait hole with his sweater draped over his arm and his shirt half buttoned, he made the short trip to the Slytherin dorms. It was barely dawn and so the common room was empty, every sane witch or wizard in bed at this unholy hour.

"Blaise! Get the fuck up," he hissed, ripping the covers off.

"Wuzhapin," the half asleep Italian mumbled, glaring in the direction of the voice of his best friend before shoving his face under the pillow.

"Off your fat arse, dickhead," Draco snapped, his wand arm twitching at the temptation to blast the pillow into feathers.

"Go back to bed," he yawned out before turning over.

"Now, Zabini!"

If looks could kill, Blaise's back would've been charred by the intensity of the Malfoy glare.

"It's times like this I seriously question our friendship," Blaise said when he followed Draco to the common room in a green silk robe. He stretched out onto the couch with his arms folded under his head and ankles crossed. He was the picture of ease, the exact opposite of his blond friend.

"It's a life or death matter, Zabini," Draco scowled.

"It's always a life or death matter with you."

Draco rolled his eyes and began pacing before the dimly lit fireplace.

"I didn't think it was possible but its gotten worse," he blurted out after casting a muffliato around them. "Whatever this is, a curse or Salazar knows what, it's speeding up."

"How can you tell?" Blaise looked equal parts confused and worried.

"Vomiting a bucket of blood was a big clue," he said, dragging his fingers through his still wet hair.

"Fuck. Draco, maybe its time you told someone. Like that lousy albeit powerful crackpot old fool, Dumbledore."

"I'd rather a manticore barge in and tear me to shreds at this very second."

"I'm convinced that dramatics are just as much in the Malloy gene as the blond hair and grey eyes," Blaise drawled, raising his head in time to catch Draco throwing him a dark look. "How about your parents? Lucius might know some underground evil wizard who could help with your little problem. If anything, they should be warned before you suddenly drop like a stone in the middle of breakfast in the Great Hall."

"I'm not putting Mother through any more situations that could lead to a grey hair. She'd make my afterlife a living hell."

"You Malfoys and your precious hair," Blaise grumbled, shaking his head slightly.

"I mean, have you seen these luscious locks?" Draco quipped.

The two paused and exchanged looks. Blaise sighed and said, "Never again."

Draco rolled his eyes and stopped pacing to lean back against the arm of the sofa. His arms were folded across his chest and his gaze drifted to the fireplace grate. Blaise could already see the sarcastic fixture of his face giving way to desolation.

"We still have quite a few books to go through. Lunch and after class, the four of us will set up camp in your common room. Most of the books are there anyways."

Draco nodded quietly, his eyes still downcast.

"We'll figure this out, Draco. When have we not?"

Draco looked over at the uncharacteristically gentle look on his friend's face and let out a heavy breath. A contemplative look came across his face and he hesitated speaking aloud his thoughts.

"An idea occurred to me this morning," he said slowly. "That list Pansy made of all the possible types of causes of…this, whatever this is. It's some type of old magic, that's for sure. The potions don't work on old magic, and I have a feeling this is dark magic. Not quite a curse, but maybe it's some sort of transformation…into a creature?"

Blaise sucked in a sharp breath and the hint of a bitter smile crossed Draco's lips.

"The Dark Lord, he wanted to make something out of me. I'm not exactly sure what, but I remember that he seemed to be waiting for something. But at the end of our...ah, sessions...he seemed disappointed. Like the amount of agony I'd endured was not enough. Like it was nothing."

"What does blood have to do with species?"

A humourless smirk crossed Draco's lips as he explained, "I can hear things no one else can. I can smell things no one else can. Did you know you smell like olive oil, sea salt, and sunshine? Perks like this aren't a part of any sort of curse. But transformations into creatures like werewolves and such, they involve a change in the senses."

"Sunshine? What the hell does sunshine smell like?"

Draco scowled.

"Hmm," Blaise looked contemplative, rising up to sit back against the arm of his sofa. "That would also explain why your scent is different. Didn't Lupin say that you smell like a predator?"

"Exactly," he nodded, beginning to look a lot more convinced with the idea that had occurred to him while he drowned himself in the shower. "We've been focusing on the wrong things. This narrows down the realm of possibility significantly. I might even not croak before figuring out what's happening to me."

"No promises on the cure though, mate," Blaise added offhandedly.

"It better be a graceful death. I refuse to be the first Malfoy who dies because he's a bloody doxy," he muttered.

"We can go to Lupin with this. It's his job to know all these dark creatures and I doubt the Dark Lord turned you into a unicorn."

"I do have the hair for a unicorn, don't I?"

Blaise snorted at his musings and shook his head disbelievingly," How do you even have room to fit in that body with your ego?"

"You're not denying it," he pointed out. "After classes we'll go look in the Restricted Section."

"That special access of yours is damn nice perk of being Head Boy. But you do realize that your own personal library at the Manor has a lot more and a lot darker books?"

"Good point. I'll get Anya to bring by the books on magical creatures."

"And Draco? You should glamour up before breakfast."

Draco grimaced. "That bad?"

"Actually," Blaise cocked an eyebrow and remarked, "You look like you just got off the cover of Witch Weekly."

A moment of confused silence and then, "What?"

"For someone who puked up blood, you look like you're modelling that school uniform. What the hell have you been eating?"

"Nothing," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "Tell me you're joking."

"I'm not mate. I'm completely secure in my manhood and so I don't have a problem telling you that you're looking ridiculously attractive. Yeah, I can see the paleness and and forlorn expression, but all those dark circles, sunken in cheeks, and everything just add to the broody sexiness."

"Blaise?"

"Yeah?"

"Never use the words 'broody sexiness' when you're talking about me."

"Duly noted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please let me know what you think of the story so far and if I'm headed in the wrong direction or if its too slow. Your reviews really do mean a lot and they do make a difference. Take care! *virtual hugs for everyone*


	9. Anomalies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco hears a voice and and Potions class takes a bizarre turn.
> 
> _The purplish circles under his eyes had deepened and his cheeks had sunken in even further. Past the ice in his eyes, she could see misery mingling with agony. Desperation was clawing its way out of the depths of his soul and it very nearly frightened her that she was privy to watching him burn from the inside out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

"Where's the fire?"

Harry looked up in alarm when he heard Hermione clambering down the Gryffindor table. She plopped down next to him, her book bag slamming onto the seat next to her with a loud bang.

"Sorry. Had to return a couple books to the library," she replied, grabbing whatever food item she could find in reach. "We have double potions in two minutes and I'm dying of hunger."

"Either way you'll choke at the speed you're shoveling that in there," Ron said.

Hermione ignored him pointedly, keeping her gaze firmly away from the direction of the redhead. Harry met Ron's eyes across the table and he shrugged sympathetically.

Pausing after taking a sip of juice, she looked around the hall with a confused look crossing her features. Everyone was tittering loudly, their faces swivelling around excitedly. "What's going on?"

A sour look came over Ron and Harry's faces and they muttered unintelligibly.

"It's Malfoy," Ginny answered for them, reaching around Neville to gesture at the Slytherin table.

Hermione's neck snapped around so quick that an audible crack could be heard. She spotted the pale head easily thanks to his tall stature and eyed the annoyance written clearly across his features.

"What's wrong with him?"

Ginny gaped at her for a moment before sputtering, "He's practically glowing with beauty. Never thought it would be possible for him to get even more attractive, but Merlin's tit."

Craning her neck again, Hermione narrowed her eyes at the boy stabbing at his eggs, steadfastly ignoring all the looks and hushed exclamations. Undoubtably, Malfoy was radiating a grace of ethereal beauty, one that couldn't be pinpointed. It was his entire being, surrounded by an invisible aura that called out to the common folks to bow down before their overlord. Even with the trademark sneer and cruel gaze daring anyone to approach him, Hermione felt that pull to him.

Despite all that, she also saw something else. Something that seemed to escape everyone else's notice. The purplish circles under his eyes had deepened and his cheeks had sunken in even further. Past the ice in his eyes, she could see misery mingling with agony. Desperation was clawing its way out of the depths of his soul and it very nearly frightened her that she was privy to watching him burn from the inside out.

Draco had tuned everyone around him out, their whispers and stares, choosing to focus on forcing some nourishment down his throat. Persisting through his mental shield, he felt a piercing stare stand out against those of others. Looking up, his eyes locked onto the warm amber doe eyes of the Head Girl. Unlike her peers who were fawning over his unusually alluring persona, she was anxiously biting down on her plump lip. Questions were written in bold block letters across her forehead but he was too amazed at her perception to answer. Of all the people to take note of his deteriorating condition, it would be the stubborn little chit who had seen too much and had all the reasons to ignore his very existence.

Draco spent the entirety of the day avoiding shameless stares and hordes of girls giggling as they followed him around. As a Malfoy, he was used to catching attention everywhere he went, but he was at his wits end with his fatal condition. Instead of meeting Blaise at the library after class, he headed down to an empty classroom in the dungeons. The cold halls were emptier as most avoided the dungeons if they could and his dormitory was nearby.

He'd sent an owl earlier to Mother with the request that she send over all the books on magical creatures for his "DADA term project". Anya had brought the books along with an assortment of his favourite snacks from the Manor.

Blaise and Theo burst into the room half an hour later, bent over and gasping for air.

"Filch," they choked out before falling into chairs.

Draco merely raised an eyebrow at their undignified behaviour and returned to reading "Beastly Beings of the Dark Ages."

"Pansy has detention but she gave me the list of creatures she came up with during lunch and her notes from yesterday," Blaise said, holding up long roll of parchment. "We'll go through the books and cross off anything that doesn't sound like the joyride pretty boy -" Draco rolled his eyes - "is on. If you find a creature that isn't on the list, write it down, even if you're going to cross it off after."

Taking the parchment from him, Draco read it over once before pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. Counting to ten with his eyes closed, he sighed and then said, "I'm bloody certain that I'm not turning into a flubberworm."

"Can never be too sure," Blaise shrugged.

If looks could kill, Blaise wouldn't have even been born.

Over the next few hours, the only sounds were that of pages turning, occasional sighs, and Theo's odd comments.

"This was suspiciously well thought out," Draco remarked.

"As your best friend I'm intent on keeping you alive, but as a Slytherin I'm shady as fuck."

"Impeccable logic."

"Draco, reading dragon books one after the other won't make you turn into one, I think," Theo pointed out half an hour later.

"I'm just making sure I haven't missed anything," he sniffed.

Blaise snorted, shaking his head without looking up from the Hippogriff diagram in his lap.

"I still think recruiting Granger would be faster," Theo piped up.

"She knows bloody everything. Wouldn't even need to go through any books," Blaise added.

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Bloody hell, I should've worn a thicker cloak," Blaise complained at the time began to near midnight. He was rubbing his hands together and blowing into them, trying to bring some feeling back into them.

"Here." Draco tossed him his own cloak, which he'd discarded an hour ago.

"Are you not cold, mate?" Theo asked, eying his thin, white button up.

Draco shook his head, muttering something about, "Fuckin' hot and cold flashes…Malfoys don't..."

"I'm profoundly astonished at the number of different magical creatures that exist," Theo remarked.

"I'm profoundly astonished that you managed to make it this long without taking a cheesecake break," Draco replied.

"I'm profoundly astonished that you two are idiots," Blaise drawled.

"That doesn't even make-" Draco cut off abruptly. He jumped to his feet and looked around frantically.

"Wha-" Theo began to ask but stopped short at his raised finger.

Draco's head was cocked to the side and his eyes were closed in concentration. He was unnaturally still for a moment before running out of the room. His friends exchanged glances before rushing to follow. When they caught up to him, Draco was standing at the edge of a first floor corridor.

"Do you hear that?"

Before they even spoke up, Draco knew what the answer would be. Shaking his head, he clenched his muscles at the sound of the icy, venomous voice echoing from within the walls.

" _Hungry…so hungry."_

It began to move again, making it easier for Draco to pinpoint a direction and follow.

" _All your pain. I want it all."_

He picked up his pace. The heavy pounding of his feet on the stone floor matched the throbbing of his heart against his ribcage.

" _Feed meeeee…."_

He turned the corner, coming to an abrupt stop. Just inches away, he glared at the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Ruin-His-Life and the poster boy for poverty.

"You've got to be kidding me," Draco growled, wanting to throw his hands up in frustration but reminding himself it was unbecoming.

"Oi, Malfoy. What're you up to, you miserable git," the redheaded idiot yelled.

"Shh," Pothead quickly turned to the bloody fool and made gestures to tell him to cut it out. "You'll wake up the whole castle."

"For once, Potter, the words coming out of your mouth aren't utter nonsense or irrelevant."

"Can it, Malfoy. Why aren't you in bed?"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for questioning the Head Boy. And another twenty, each, for leaving your dorms after curfew."

"What? You can't do tha-," Weasley yelped before Potter elbowed him in the stomach.

"Pothead and his dung-for-brains sidekick," Blaise drawled, coming up behind Draco. "Where's the one and only brains of the trio?"

Draco kept his face impassive and his eyes cold, all the while cursing Blaise in his head.

"None of your business, snake," the redhead hissed.

Potter narrowed his eyes at the three Slytherins and asked carefully, "What do you want with her?"

"That's none of your business," Blaise replied cheerfully.

"Now run off to bed like good little Gryffindors," Draco interrupted before the dunderhead duo could retort, waving them off dismissively.

Glaring at the blond, Potter spun on his heel and began dragging his sputtering friend. Looking over his shoulder to see Draco smirking, he scowled.

"Good riddance."

"Seconded, Theo," Blaise nodded.

Waiting until the Gryffindors had reached the end of the corridor, Draco was turning to head back to the classroom when he heard it. He had his wand held out ready in a defensive position before anyone else could blink, for this time the voice came from somewhere right next to him. He squinted his eyes at the wall for a moment before slowly inching closer. He reached out with his other hand to brush his fingers against the cold stone and was so focused on straining his ears for another sound that he nearly missed Potter showing up at his elbow.

Before the dark-haired bespectacled boy could say anything, Draco held up a finger to gesture for him to keep silent without looking back.

Unfortunately, whatever had been hissing in the darkness of the castle had disappeared or at least chosen to keep its silence.

"You heard that?" Those were the first words out of Potters mouth the moment Draco straightened up.

Muscles tense, Draco slowly turned to regard him with a calculating gaze. He was more than a head taller than him but Potter stared back defiantly. Draco would've been disappointed if The-Boy-Who-Finally-Offed-Mouldy-Voldy showed a lack of confidence, but he was still pleased at the slight tinge of fear in those emerald irises.

"I'm guessing you can also hear it," Draco said, not quite asking as much as stating.

Potter nodded and exchanged an uneasy glance with Weasley.

"What do you know?" His demands were punctuated by narrowed eyes and thinned out lips.

"I think this is a conversation we should be having in private," Potter said carefully.

"Can someone enlighten us?" Blaise interrupted irately.

"Not here," Potter said.

Back in the Heads common room, Theo made his way to the kitchen while Draco claimed his armchair. Potter and Weasley ambled in after them, looking around in awe.

"Huh, did Granger not bother to give you two the grand tour?" Blaise said with a smirk and leaned back against the mantle with his arms crossed across his chest. "Trouble in paradise?"

"None. Of. Your. Business," Weasley spat out through gritted teeth.

"Seems like she figured out when to cut her losses," Draco added, his eyes sparkling with cruel mirth.

"Why the hell are you so interested in Hermione?" Potter demanded loudly, his glasses sliding down his nose as he shook in anger.

"Oi, keep it down. Your precious Princess is sleeping."

"Since when do you care?" Weasley challenged and Draco noted his clenched fists with satisfaction.

"I don't. I'm the one who'll have to deal with her cranky arse stomping around those giant feet, which," Draco flashed them a cold smile, "I'd prefer not to."

"All of you have the attention span of a cornish pixie," Theo commented as he came out of the kitchen carrying a box of Muggle cereal. "Someone tell Granger she's running low on these delicious blobs called lucky charms."

"Thief," Weasley mumbled, eyeing Theo beadily.

Ignoring his friend, Potter cleared his throat and asked, "Okay, just so we all know, who here heard the voice?"

"Just Draco."

"Thank you, Theo," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Any sort of skill skipped over Weasley here so I'm guessing Potter is the only one of you lot?"

Weasley's face matched his hair and Potter spoke up before he could explode. "Can we have one serious conversation without you running your nasty mouth off?"

"You have no idea how nasty my mouth can get, Potter." There was a predatory gleam in his grey eyes.

Potter sighed and continued, "Pretending we never heard that, let's carry on. For the rest of you, Malfoy and I heard this creepy voice saying even creepier shit. The last thing we heard it say is 'give me blood'. This is bad. This is really bad."

"No shit, " Draco scowled. "What I want to know is, why do you two look like you just found out the Dark Lord is alive?"

Potter muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"You've got to be kidding me," Draco snapped indignantly and sat up straight. His enhanced hearing picked up what even Weasley, who was sitting next to Potter, couldn't. "Don't fuck with me, Potter."

"Some of us don't have all our lives to wait for you to beat around the fluttering bush," Blaise said loudly, his eyes flickering over to Draco.

"The last time I heard a voice like that - a voice only I could hear - was in second year."

"Basilisk."

Potter and Weasley looked at him in surprised, but Draco's attention was already elsewhere. His thoughts were running a mile a minute, racing back to a particular piece of information he'd come across earlier that night.

"Are you trying to say there's another giant serpent slithering around the castle?" Blaise exclaimed.

"You know, a Basilisk isn't exactly the kind of pet you can pick up at Diagon Alley," Theo said between handfuls of cereal and sounded entirely too amused.

"Anya," Draco said abruptly. His voice hadn't been loud enough to catch the attention of the others but when a tiny elf appeared in their midst with a loud crack, they quietened immediately. "The classroom two doors down from Snape's office has our books and papers. Bring all of our things here, please."

She nodded quickly, her large ears flapping around. She was gone and back within seconds, appearing with their things piled onto the coffee table.

"Anya broughts them for Master Draco," she squeaked out. It was then that she noticed the four other pairs of eyes staring at her and the elf began to quiver noticeably. "Does Master Draco need Anya again?"

"Thank you, Anya. You can go back to the Manor now."

Nearly touching the floor with her nose in, she bowed and disappeared with a crack.

"I must be hallucinating," Weasley mumbled, watching with wide eyes. "Draco Malfoy thanking an elf? Bloody hell."

Draco scowled.

"How is it that you can be polite to a house elf, but you still call Hermione that disgusting word?" Potter accused.

"It's what she is, and she knows it too," Draco sneered. He didn't expect them to understand the dynamics of his relationship, for a lack of a better word, with Granger.

Ignoring the two idiots that were the bane of his existence, he snatched up a book and flipped through it until he found the passage he needed.

"You're not supposed to be a parseltongue," Potter realized.

Blaise frowned. "Could it be that during all that torture and dark magic, the Dark Lord passed on this particular trait?"

Draco shook his head and said carefully, "It says here that particular magical creatures can understand tongues that aren't their own."

"Oh." Theo blinked. "You don't think?"

"Oh fuck," Blaise muttered and staggered forward to fall into the seat next to Draco. "If we're right about the creature transformation theory, then this is a huge clue."

"Wait, wait. Is this about your illness?"

Theo and Blaise looked at Potter with shocked written all over their features before turning accusing glares onto Draco.

"Granger was one thing, but you told these idiots too?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at him and said calmly, "Think over what you just said, Blaise."

At least his friend had the decency to look ashamed.

"What illness?" Weasley whispered.

"Don't you dare, Potter," Draco snarled, his head snapping around to glare at them. "You think I don't know about you sticking your do-gooder nose in my business? And that's right. This is none of your business so go jump off a cliff."

"How did you hear that?" They gaped at him in surprise.

He didn't have an explanation to give them, nor did he even want to. Instead, he questioned, "What're you going to do about this…thing?"

"Huh?"

Draco rolled his eyes and said exasperatedly, "All that rule breaking, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and getting in life threatening situations thing that you lot do each year. You know, all the the stuff that just warms the cockles of our dear old Headmaster's heart?"

"Hang on," Weasley jumped in. "Harry, shouldn't we go to Dumbledore? To avoid the life threatening situations? I don't know about you, but I don't fancy being nearly eaten by giant spiders again."

Potter looked confused. "I mean, eventually, he'll find out, yeah?"

"Exactly. This time we can tell him _before_ we end up in the hospital wing."

Draco frowned, not liking the pleased look on the ginger idiot's face. Actually, he didn't like the entire thing.

"If you're involving that old fool then leave us out of it," he said irritably.

"Watch it! He's a bloody great wizard," Weasley argued hotly.

Blaise saw the thunderous expression taking over Draco's features and quickly added, "You two clearly have no idea of what to do yet, do you?"

Potter flushed and scratched the back of his neck as he admitted, "This is usually the part where Hermione researches in the library and comes up with a plan."

Draco's eyes shot up and he barked out a laugh. "You'd have died back in first year if it weren't for Granger."

"You'd think those Gryffindor morals of hers would hold her back from all that rule breaking," Theo added.

"What do you know of morals, Nott?" Weasley spat out.

Potter pinched his nose and turned to Draco with an uncomfortable look on his face. "We'll let you know if we find anything."

Draco nodded curtly.

When they had left, Blaise commented idly, "Is it just me or are things changing around here?"

Draco grunted, "I don't like it."

* * *

"Mister Malfoy! Excuse me, Mister Malfoy."

Draco stopped short and turned with a furrowed brow. It took him a moment to realize that the voice belonged to a tiny boy squeezing his way through the crowd. The kid barely came up to his hip, Draco noted with amusement.

"Mister Malfoy," he huffed, out of breath with the extra effort it took his short legs to catch up to the Head Boy.

"Issac?"

"These - these Gryffindors, they took Arturo's wand and they're messing with him," he said anxiously.

Draco briefly remembered the mousy, fair-haired boy who had been sorted into Slytherin. Arturo Bane, a very very distant cousin of Theo's.

"Where?" He barked out, his spine stiffening with anger.

"By the lake."

The other students stumbled of the way at the sight of an angry Malfoy. No one wanted to risk the blond's wrath, especially not with the way the air around his head was crackling with electricity.

He spotted the third year Gryffindors who were taunting the boy they were slowly cornering towards the edge of the water. Fear was evident on Arturo's ashen face and his eyes were red rimmed. He'd barely been a Slytherin for a week, not enough time for him to learn how to hold his composure and mask his emotions.

As he got near, Draco could hear their jeers and the words coming out of their mouths were enough to make his blood boil.

"Not so tough now, are you, death eater scum?" The one holding two wands sneered.

"Why don't you go drown yourself? Do the world a favour," another spat out.

"Picking on someone half your size and outnumbered three to one? Where are your Gryffindor morals now?" Draco said coldly, coming up behind them.

They turned on their heels and flinched backwards at the tall blond glaring down at them.

"Too afraid to face a real death eater?" His voice was ice, only amplifying the menacing look on his face.

He rolled the sleeves of his robes up, discretely ensuring his Dark Mark was visible. His lips curled up into a sneer when they nearly fell over themselves trying to get away.

"Let's see, fifty house points _each_ and a month of detentions with Professor Snape," he sneered, his lips curling up into a cruel smile when their ashen faces turned red with anger but they couldn't say anything.

"If you ever dare try a stunt like this ever again or I even hear the words death eater leave your mouth, house points and detentions will be the least of your worries," he added, "and rest assured, I _will_ hear."

They nodded quickly and tossed Arturo's wand back to him when Draco raised a dark blond eyebrow at the boy holding it.

"You're just going to let them go?" Issac questioned disbelievingly while Draco checked Arturo over. "B-but you're Draco Malfoy."

Draco chuckled darkly and patted his head. "Exactly. Only a Gryffindor would charge after them angrily. They'll get what's coming to them, don't you worry."

"Like a snake in the tall grass, watching and waiting to strike?"

Draco smirked at the kid's analogy and nodded. "You have much to learn, fledgling."

"Th - thank you," Arturo mumbled, looking down at the ground miserably.

"Come on. I'll teach you a couple fun hexes because let's be honest - Gryffindors are idiots. They'll slip up and it'll be even more humiliating when they get their arses handed to them by a first year," Draco remarked, steering him towards the castle with a hand on his shoulder.

* * *

He stared back at the severe Head of Gryffindor, the indifferent mask in place. She was appraising him from over her spectacles and seemed like she was finally going to speak up when the door behind him slammed open.

"I'm so sorry," Granger gasped out, falling into the chair next to him. "I was asking Professor Vector about our homework and lost track of the time."

"Very well, Ms. Granger. Now, how has the first week fared for the two of you?"

Draco could feel the Head Girl's eyes on him, but he chose to keep his gaze forward. When she didn't speak right away, he said, "You were right in saying that the blood feud is worse than ever. The students are confused, wanting to blame the first unsuspecting target, however innocent they may be."

"Did something happen?" McGonagall asked worriedly.

Draco nodded and began explaining what had transpired just this morning. It was difficult for him to keep his anger contained, but he was pleased to see that the Head of Gryffindor was upset as well. A part of him feared that she would brush the issues aside simply because it was her precious Gryffindors in the wrong.

"That's awful. Who were they?" Granger asked, looking aghast.

Ignoring her, he waited for McGonagall to respond.

"That is absolutely unacceptable. They will most definitely be dealt with. We need to make it clear from the very beginning that this sort of behaviour will not be tolerated at Hogwarts," the elder woman said decidedly. Her lips were pressed into a fine line, anger brimming at the surface.

"It won't be enough."

"Malfoy is right, Professor. Docking house points and detention aren't going to make them see their mistakes. You were right when you said we needed to demonstrate unity and we're going to need to strike while the iron is still hot."

"What do you propose, Ms. Granger?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted.

Draco was shocked that for once the bossy know-it-all didn't have an answer, so much that he cocked an eyebrow at her.

She flushed in embarrassment and added, "But I'm sure that between the two of us, Malfoy and I could figure something out."

"I'm looking forward to hearing what you come up with. One last thing, as Heads you'll be holding tutoring sessions for at least two classes of your choosing that you've gotten Outstanding in. I'll need each of you to inform me of the topics you've chosen and when you're holding these sessions. Ensure that you choose at least two different years, even if its for the same subject. Any questions?"

Both of them shook their heads quietly.

McGonagall nodded approvingly and dismissed them as the bell rang, signaling the end of their lunch period. Draco held the door open for Granger to pass, rolling his eyes when she looked surprised. Did she really expect the son of Narcissa Malfoy to not have the most impeccable of manners ingrained into him before he could even ride a broomstick.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He paused in following Granger out.

"I'm really glad that the younger students have someone they can look up to and trust. I knew I hadn't made a mistake in giving you that badge."

Draco felt odd at her words, nodding stiffly before making a hasty exit. Never before had anyone mentioned the words "Malfoy" and "trust" together. At least not an authority figure that wasn't Snape. And if he wasn't mistaken, that was pride he heard in her voice. Though his first instinct was to deny it vehemently, he knew he was entirely too skilled at reading body language to be wrong.

Unlike the rest of his classmates, Draco didn't mind having an extra potions class on a Friday afternoon. Potions was something he enjoyed, and not just because he excelled at it. It also didn't hurt knowing that even with a completely unbiased professor, this was the one subject Granger couldn't beat him at.

"Settle down," Snape called out coolly as he strode into the room, shutting the door behind him with a wave of his wand. "I hope for your sakes that your potions are sufficient, or you'll be nursing seriously painful injuries. This isn't a potion to be trifled with."

They spent nearly half an hour preparing the final touches on their potions, the classroom a haze of shimmery smoke. Dreamy smiles were on everyone's faces, each high off the scent of the deadly concoction. _Wars were waged over love_ , Draco mused silently, his own muscles tingling. The condensation from the Amorentia was soaking his pores and slightly dulling the pain in his bones.

His hands were still clammy and it was tiring having to stand for long periods of time. Thankfully, a lot of the instructions included waiting for short intervals while it brewed and he took that time to rest his head on his arms. Pansy glared at anyone who looked funnily at her partner and it amused him to no end how much his friend resembled a mother bear protecting her cub. Pansy may be on the petite side but she was a formidable witch.

"Time's up. Bottle your potions up and back away from your cauldron," Snape called out, his low voice cutting through their muffled chatter.

He eyed them beadily as they all followed his instructions and stood back nervously. Having done their homework everyone knew exactly how dangerous this seemingly harmless potion could be if it went even the slightest bit wrong. Love, or even the illusion of it, was no trifling matter.

"Now, this is how we'll be doing things. If your final product resembles my perfectly made sample, you will gain half of your practical marks right then. Those who haven't managed to accomplish even that much will automatically get a zero for the practical portion of your project," Snape continued, beginning to smirk.

Nearly half of the class failed this first test, dejected looks on the faces of everyone but five pairs. Unsurprisingly, Granger and her partner, who happened to be Potter, passed. Draco had been beating Granger in potions since their first year, coming second to her in everything else, so it was no surprise that him and Pansy passed as well. The other two pairs whose potion resembled Snape's were Patil and Thomas, and Theo and Blaise. Draco was pleased to note that Weasley was grumbling under his breath, eying his two best friends dejectedly. There was no surprise there; he always been quick to turn green with envy. Though how the idiot even made it into NEWT level potions was beyond him.

Snape didn't seem surprised with the outcome and looked rather excited for the next part. Draco watched his godfather curiously, wondering just what he had in store for them.

"For those of you who aren't complete imbeciles, you'll be sniffing your potion and telling the rest of the class just what it is you smell. Though the purpose of Amorentia is producing a powerful infatuation, the core power is in the scent it exudes. Magic that is able to identify what attracts each person to their perfect match is no small feat.. As it is, I already brewed the complication portion of your potion, but if you can wrap your head around the weight of this particular characteristic then you'll be able to understand and respect the complexity of Amorentia."

Draco watched in amusement as Granger leaned forward, hung on the Potions Master's every word, and even Potter had his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Most of his peers had no idea of the sort of power potions contained and it took a natural talent and dedication to master this branch of magic. Memorizing steps in a textbook was complete child's play to the real potential of potion making.

"To evaluate the accuracy of your product, there will be two trials. For the first, you will tell the rest of the class what scent your product gives off and you'll compare it to my sample. The potion I've made is highly potent and as such you will be unable to resist the compulsion to reveal the scent it gives off. The second and final trial will be for the potions that passed the first. You'll be drinking your own product to prove its efficiency."

All the students exchanged uneasy glances, thrown off by the cruel smile on Snape's face. Even Draco shifted in his seat and eyed his own potion suspiciously even though he knew it was made perfectly.

"Um…uh…oh! I can smell vanilla, tangerines, and…flowers…I think freesias," Potter stammered, his cheeks pink.

Blaise snickered, catching Weasley's glare in response.

Granger wafted the steam coming out of the vial towards her and her eyes slipped close as a smile crept onto her face. "Sandalwood…leather…jasmine."

Snape rolled his eyes and gestured for them to step up to the cauldron on his desk.

"Yeah. Definitely freesias," Potter affirmed.

Granger's face lit up. "Oh! There's another one as well. It was too faint with my potion but it's very strong now. A famil - uh, a cologne. French and expensive, I think."

Pansy snorted under her breath and Draco's lip twitched. Theo narrowed his eyes at Granger, his face contemplative.

Blaise and Theo's potion was half as strong as Snape's, whereas Patil and Thomas' was closer to Granger and Potter's. Theo and Blaise could pick up a faint scent of sunflowers and cider respectively in their own potion.

"Now comes the most crucial part," Snape announced in his drawl, eying the five pairs closely. "All ten of you made your potions to varying degrees of accuracy and that will be demonstrated in the aftermath of when you drink it. I have here vials of antidotes that you will be ingesting exactly one minute after your potion. Mr. Thomas and Ms. Patil, if you please."

Nervously, they placed a strand of their own hair in the other's vial and once the liquid stopped glowing, Thomas downed his.

The effect was instantaneous, a delirious smile creeping onto his face. He edged near Patil and grabbed her hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

"Are you a parking ticket…because you've got fine written all over you," he purred.

Patil's reaction to drinking the potion involved more blushing and giggling shyly.

Unsurprisingly, Potter was awkward as he stumbled over his attempts at wooing Granger. When she laughed instead of slapping him, he visibly relaxed and pulled her into a hug. Draco's gut clenched and he steeled his jaw to keep from going over there and ripping Potter's grabby hands off the bushy-haired bint.

His self control was truly tested when it was Granger's turn to drink the potion. The dreamy way she looked at Potter made him sick and he had to grip the table when his vision swam. The ache in his bones came back with a roar and a growl tried to crawl up his throat. Thankfully, Snape administered the antidote just before she could kiss Potter. Lucky for Potter too or Draco would've beaten him to pulp. He hated this uneasiness coursing through veins and the out of control sensation that accompanied it. He didn't even bother questioning why that was, so focused that he was on maintaining his composure.

As of yet, Blaise was the most smooth as he recited lusty poetry to green-looking Theo. He was tracing his fingers down Theo's jaw, ignoring the quivering of his friend's body, when Snape pulled him back by his collar and shoved the antidote down his throat. Theo, on the other hand, leant forward to sniff his friend and then stated, "Your body seems strong enough to withstand the full moon mating ritual." Blaise was bent over laughing even after Theo took the antidote and coughed awkwardly, tugging at his tie to loosen it.

"You go first," Pansy insisted when it was their turn. Draco shrugged and swallowed the entire contents of his vial.

Seconds passed…and nothing.

Draco ignoring the snickering Gryffindors and looked at the professor questioningly. Snape seemed just as perplexed, knowing full well there was no way Draco's potion was brewed incorrectly.

"Are you sure you don't feel anything?"

He shook his head. "Pansy, I feel exactly the same as a minute ago. I have no desire to seek your affections. Not even the slightest bit."

She didn't look offended, knowing full well what he meant and agreeing with his sentiments. "Maybe if you tried someone else's hair?"

He tried just that, using a hair from Theo, Blaise, and Adrian. The only difference he could feel was that he was starting to feel the cold air of the dungeons begin seep in through his clothes.

Snape barked at the Gryffindors to stop their hushed whispers and took a moment to stare at Draco speculatively. Finally, after what felt like an hour, he plucked a hair from Daphne's head and added it to a vial of his own Amorentia.

"Give this a try," Snape encouraged, handing the vial to Draco.

A cold seed settled into the pit of his stomach when even Snape's own potion had no effect on him. Instead of explaining, Snape had Pansy try their potion. The seed grew into a knot, stabbing at his insides when it worked perfectly well on his friend. Sucking in a sharp breath, Draco gave him a subtle shake of his head.

Understanding, Snape instructed the baffled class to pack their stuff and leave, stating the class was over and leave their essays on his desk. He ignored Granger's, "But professor, how can this even happen?" and slammed the door shut right in her face.

Turning back to the dejected blond, he said slowly, "I think it's time you told me everything. Then we'll call in the werewolf."

Draco pulled out the sheet of creatures his friends and him had managed to narrow down and slid it across the desk. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "Which one of these creatures would be immune to one of the most potent elixirs to exist?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your overwhelming response! I'm absolutely blown away and I promise you your kind words are not in vain. I read every single review and if you could see the way my face lights up each time. I've been taking into account all of your opinions and one thing I wanted to point out is that yes the Slytherins seems a little OOC but one of the main themes of this fic is that even Slytherins are people. JKR labelled them as cold and heartless, when really no person is so one dimensional. I wanted to show these characters and their humanity. They live and breathe like all others. Love and hurt the same.  
> Once again, thank you for your comments and kudos. Please continue showing your support by leaving me a review. I love to hear from each and every one of you. Hugs and kisses!


	10. A Curse To Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Weasley lends a hand to a Malfoy and all does not end well for Draco.
> 
> _"Not that it's any of your business, but Malfoys always get the best of everything, and in this case, I want a survivor. Someone strong and brave. And mark my words, I will get that. Not a shoulder to cry on, but a witch worth fighting for. Now little Astoria might be something to look at, but she's not the gem a Malfoy deserves."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

Draco studied the tall leather-clad wizard before him, taking note of his dragon tooth earring and the chains hooked around loops of his tight pants. His boots were dragon-hide, not as expensive at his own, but better quality than he'd expected out of a Weasley. He made note of the scars the peeked out from under his collar and on his knuckles. The redhead was doing the same with him, his dark brown eyes narrowed on the stone-faced aristocrat. Having come to some sort of conclusion, he relaxed and held out his hand to Draco.

"Bill Weasley, Gringott's Head Curse-Breaker," he offered kindly.

Draco kept his expression even as he shook his hand. "Draco Malfoy, the Dark Lord's personal guinea pig."

Bill raised an eyebrow at the muggle reference, but refrained from commenting. Instead, he leaned back against Lupin's desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "Remus told me a bit about your situation, but I'd like to hear it from you as well."

Inhaling deeply, he nodded and launched into the tragic demise of the great Draco Malfoy. Bill didn't interrupt, choosing to nod at times, until Draco took off his button up and turned to show him the half-healed gashes on his back.

Stepping closer, he eyed the inflamed skin inquisitively and asked, "And you said you scratched at the wounds in your sleep?"

"Clawed my nails off too while at it," Draco grumbled. "It's the residue dark magic from the curses used that won't let them heal completely."

"Have you considered that the dark magic seeped through the rest of your body?" Bill asked.

"That's sort of what we're thinking," Draco admitted. "Whatever that bastard and my sadistic Aunt did to me - believe me, they did quite a lot - it hasn't stopped entirely. This might be a product of their experiments."

"Experiments?" he echoed.

Draco nodded curtly, his body tensing at the memories trying to swarm up his mental walls.

"I'd like to emphasize the importance of the fact that all of this ties back to the nightmares, the memories," Snape interrupted from his place by the door.

"Perhaps, but it could also simply be a side effect. Nonetheless, do you mind if I perform some diagnostic tests?" Bill asked, holding up his wand. "Just customary checks we perform in each case and some extras that pertain to your situation specifically."

Draco agreed, slightly uncomfortable with the idea but knowing it was necessary. Exchanging glances with Blaise, he squared his shoulders with a determination written all over his face.

Nearly half an hour later, Bill stepped away and sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

"That was one of the most complex diagnostic evaluation I've done," he admitted. "But the good news is that the curse that caused the injuries on your back isn't the cause of this."

"How is that good news? Now we don't know the cause," Draco muttered.

Instead of being offended, Bill smiled amusedly. "We don't know the cause, you're right, but I did find something strange. While its not causing your bizarre symptoms, the dark magic in your back is slowly entangling itself with strands of magic from your core. It's not as alarming as it sounds and I'll tell you why in a moment."

Everyone perked up and unconsciously leaned forward.

"The thing about curses is that they're one of the more complex forms of magic. The curse depends completely on the creator's creativity so it can be difficult to pin it down to a category. Now as you know, the war brought an onslaught of modified and new curses. There's about a dozen curses we haven't been able to classify, simply because without knowing the intent of the architect behind them we can't know their true potential." He paused, careful about his next words. "If this is a curse, then it is something that has its roots in ancient magic but has been reshaped."

"What do you mean _if_?" Draco demanded, his voice harsh with frustration.

"Draco," Lupin began, imploring him with his eyes and words. "Hear him out."

"Your body is host to something very complex, Draco," Bill calmly interrupted the blond's cursing. "There's dark magic present, but strangely enough - and this is the most important piece of information - it isn't fighting you."

"This has to be some sort of sick joke," Draco snapped, running his fingers through his hair aggressively. "I'm dying here, for real. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't have a bloody moment where some part of me isn't in pain. Not even the worst of it, I quite literally coughed up a bucket of blood. And don't even get me started on the nightmares. Every time I close my eyes I see all of that - that - I see those disgusting, horrifying things all over again. I get to relive that son-of-a-bitch taking apart pieces of my soul only to replace them with evil incarnate. How in the name of Salazar can you stand there and tell me it's not fighting me? How?"

"That's because it's changing you."

He froze, his mouth suddenly too dry to choke out more than, "What?"

Blaise, who had been quietly listening up until now, asked the question that had immediately popped into everyone's minds, "Into what?"

"Now that's the real question here, isn't it?" Bill mused drily.

Draco let out a sharp breath and staggered back into the wall. Leaning against it, he let himself fall to the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest. Elbows resting on his knees and he covered his face with his quivering hands. For once, he didn't care that he was showing weakness to a stranger, a _Weasley_ of all people. Decorum no longer mattered in the face of fatal plight, though Narcissa Malfoy would disagree.

"Am I going to die?" he mumbled through his fingers.

It was only because his eyes were scrunched close to hold in the tears that threatened to escape - weakness was one thing, but crying in front of Weasley was a hard limit - that he didn't see the pity in Bill's eyes. His lips were pressed into a frown, feeling like a wretch to be the one to bring the suffering boy this news. He would remember for years to come the sight of a haunted, broken Malfoy.

"Don't be foolish, Draco. We'll sort this out," Snape said through a frown.

Lupin looked taken aback at the callous way Snape had dismissed Draco's fear, but before he could even say anything Blaise caught his eye. He shook his head sharply at the professor and Lupin didn't look happy about it. His disgruntlement was replaced by amazement when Draco cleared his throat and schooled his features back into his calculating mask. His eyes were cold concrete, hard with determination. Getting to his feet and dusting off his slacks, he turned back to the impressed redhead.

"Can you tell me more of this change? Specifically, what is it altering?" His voice was steady, his hands clenched into fists to restrain their shaking.

Bill nodded. A small smile played on his lips as his eyes flickered between the Potions Master and his godson.

"You've experienced a lot of abrupt physical changes in the past few months and I'm sure you aren't the only one who has noticed. The sudden growth spurt, the slight changes in bone structure, and the fact that you should be a walking corpse with how little you've been eating instead of regaining your Seeker physique - all of these things that you've mentioned were a result of the magic ancient magic tied to your core. It seems relatively new, as if it's still testing out it's own limits. It is also siphoning energy from the dark magic in your back to make these changes to the host - your body - possible. I'd venture a guess that your symptoms of illness are caused by this strenuous process that's happening inside a body that wasn't built to contain so much more magic…more energy."

Theo straightened up in his seat on Lupin's couch and added, "That would be the creature transformation, right?"

"Is that even possible?" Lupin questioned when Bill shook his head in agreement. "Could a human be transformed into creature? Something other than a werewolf or vampire?

"As much as I loathe to agree with Lupin," Snape added reluctantly, "he makes an excellent point. Most, if not all, creatures are bred, not transmogrified."

"That's true," Theo answered for Bill. "It would be impossible for a wizard to be transformed into another creature, at least not the way Draco is. There have been reported incidents in history of cursing your enemy into a magical creature like a dragon - old magic, really dark - or a spell that turns one into a frog and some type of condition must be met to break it. Then you have the less worrisome matter of human transfiguration -" Draco crossed his arms across his chest and huffed, "- or polyjuice potion. But there's a reason polyjuice potion isn't for animal transformations. The pain that comes with taking that potion is due to your organs reshaping for anatomical differences and your blood composition altering itself. Now if you were to use the hair of let's say your cat, then your entire skeleton would have to break apart and rebuild itself. Your body is mimicking the genetic composition of the person who you're trying to become."

At Bill and Lupin's confused looks, Snape rolled his eyes but Theo flushed and explained, "Blaise, Draco, Pansy, and I studied Muggle science a few years ago. Bio…uh, biochemistry I think it was called. Anyways, that's connected to the study of genetics. Basically the stuff that decides your hair colour, eyes, nose, some diseases you may develop, or even something like the infamous Black temper, all of which is hereditary. The polyjuice potion imitates someone else's genes, but only the physical characteristics, which are the only things you cannot actually change about yourself naturally. It's the same thing with human transfiguration or spells, and most curses too. But I'm pretty this isn't like being cursed into someone who turns into a dragon at night or cursed into being a merperson. Right, Weasley? You must've seen those curses in your line of work."

Bill took a moment to recover from his surprise and nodded slowly, scratching at his chin. "I once encountered a witch in Egypt who'd been cursed into a sphinx with a class two metamorphosis curse. This however…this - its completely different though. This is interfering directly with your magic."

"Exactly!" Theo remarked, smacking his fist against his palm. He stood up and began to pace, the words pouring out of him faster now with excitement. "This curse isn't just going to transform you into something else. It's not as quick as any other transformation, in fact, it's being drawn out over months. Which, by the way, is insane for any curse. Draco's condition is more similar to a drawn out werewolf transformation - well, except we know he's not a werewolf or I presume Professor Lupin would've noticed."

"Mr. Nott is right. A werewolf can smell another werewolf from the other end of the World Cup stadium," Lupin said when Draco looked at him questioningly. "Draco smells like a predator, definitely, but nothing even close to a werewolf. In fact, his scent is sort of sweet - sickly sweet."

The relief on Draco's face was palpable and he didn't even bother scowling at Lupin's last words. Muttering under his breath, he pulled out the parchment with the list of creatures they had come up with and scratched out one of them.

Putting the quill down, he looked back to Theo and prompted, "You were going somewhere with this."

He nodded eagerly and pointed to the blond. "You, my friend, are not just transforming into a creature, no, you're _becoming_ one. I'd dare say your actual genetics are being altered, like in werewolfism or vampirism, except it's something no witch or wizard in known history has transformed into before."

"Lovely. I'm the bloody poster boy for Pureblood Wizard and I'll be a mockery," Draco snapped, his mannerisms agitated as he jerked his fingers through his hair.

"As fitting Mr. Nott's theory is, we cannot simply assume it is absolutely correct," Snape pointed out unapologetically.

"True, but it is the best we have," said Blaise.

"But then that means it'll be _permanent_ ," Draco whined, hissing the accursed word.

"Sorry, Brother. But on the bright side, you'll be six feet over instead of under like we had been assuming."

"Thanks, Blaise," Draco drawled sarcastically and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Anytime!" he replied cheerfully.

"Will the two of you please focus on this extremely serious matter?" Snape interrupted coolly.

"Why does everyone think I'm not serious about being in constant agony?" Draco exclaimed, throwing his hands up in resignation.

"If that really is the case, then will you finally be telling Lucius and Narcissa?" Snape arched a brow at him, a smirk forming on his face when Draco coughed and looked around awkwardly.

"Huh, so anyone else have anything to add to Theo's theory?" he asked quickly, tugging at his collar.

"What I'm concerned about is when the curse will culminate," Bill said carefully.

"Culminate?"

"Yes, Draco, that would be the moment you fully transform."

"Shouldn't we be focusing on the _what_ rather than the when?" Blaise asked, looking uncomfortable. "Personally I'd rather know if I'm gonna wake up to my mate a hippogriff instead of when he'll be getting a complete makeover."

Draco opened his mouth to protest but then paused and closed it with a nod. "He's right. I need to be prepared for what I'll be dealing with. Besides, I'm pretty sure it'll be happening soon because really, what can be worse than vomiting a bucket of blood?"

At that moment, looking around the office at the faces of the majority of the handful of people who wanted him to live, he didn't realize he had essentially just challenged the fates. And they would deliver.

* * *

"What on Earth were you and Ron doing out of bed so late?"

"Told you she'd nag," Ron muttered, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his seat.

Hermione glared at him and if they weren't in the library she would've yelled.

"Come on, you two. Can we please just cooperate? We have a serious problem on our hands."

She sighed and said, "At least we know where the sword of Gryffindor is this time."

"What? Are you suggesting we go down there and stab the Basilisk 2.0?"

"Of course not!" she cried, looking affronted. "You can't just go into the Chamber of Secrets, guns blazing, Harry."

"Guns? What's that?" Ron interjected with puzzlement.

"Muggle weapon. Basically the killing curse in metal form," Harry explained.

"Blimey!" Ron blinked.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione continued, "You don't even know what is - oh close your mouth, Ronald, it was an expression Muggles use - you don't know what's down there."

"Since when do we ever know what we're up against?" Harry shrugged.

"Hence the numerous injuries and near death experiences."

"Why can't it just be a Basilisk? Maybe Salazar Slytherin had two pets and the other one was napping up until now."

"I don't know, mate, Basilisks are supposed to be creatures of legend. Mostly to scare your children when they refuse to eat red potatoes," Ron said, the tips of his ears turning red.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "You didn't like eating red potatoes?"

"They're unnatural!" he defended himself.

"Hm...then you've missed out. Sauté them in a pan with basil and it tastes amazing."

"Are you two not concerned that we might have another monster loose in the castle?" Harry exclaimed and winced when Madame Pince glared at them.

"Why is it always us?" Hermione groaned, finally closing the textbook she was reading and slamming it down onto the table.

"Uh...because I'm the Chosen One?" Harry offered and then added weakly at her glare, "And you're the brightest witch of our age?"

"And what am I? Bloody meatloaf?" Ron huffed.

Ignoring the whining redhead, Harry leaned closer over the table and asked lowly, "Aren't you the least bit curious in figuring out why Malfoy is starting to channel The-Boy-Who-Lived?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and said stiffly, "Fine, tell me what all you know."

He grinned and reached into his pocket to pull out a scrunched up ball of parchment. Flattening it out on the table, he pushed it over for her to read.

"Huh." She slowly reached down into her bag and pulled out a crisply folded paper.

Exchanging the papers, they went over the notes quickly. Ron leaned over to read the paper in Harry's hand and made a noise of disapproval at the amount of points on there.

"Hermione, you've really been holding back on us," Harry said slowly after a few minutes.

To his surprise, she blushed and cleared her throat before saying, "It's a good thing I'm so observant."

"I'll say," he mumbled. "We literally just have three points on ours."

"Yeah, but they're good ones. Like this one - Blaise mentioning something about a creature transformation theory…did I read that right?"

"I swear on my Firebolt that's what he said."

"Alright. Uh, Harry? Malfoy most definitely does not have the ears of a bat."

"Okay not literally, but, Hermione, he could hear me mumble from across your common room. That shit is not wholly possible without something suspicious going on - like hidden bat ears!"

Hermione blinked.

"Meh. It's the Wizarding World. Anything is possible," Harry shrugged.

"Okay then…I'm just going to write it down as enhanced hearing on my paper."

"We'll see."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Sure, Harry. Anyways, moving on, like I said back in second year the hearing voices thing is definitely alarming."

"But we still can't say that it's a Basilisk for sure. Not until we've seen the proof," Ron added.

"The proof would give us a one-way ticket to the toilet in the stall next to Moaning's Myrtle's," Harry pointed out.

"Can't argue with that, mate."

"From my end, we have all these symptoms of his illness - nausea, feverish, oh and remember when he tore his nails off clawing at his back? That's a bizarre one, for sure. I'll double underline 'nightmares of memories' and 'immunity to Amorentia' - can't forget today's little display."

"Okay, so from what I understand, creature transformation theory…Malfoy's turning into some sort of creature?"

Hermione nodded. "Seems like it."

"Werewolf?" Ron suggested.

"No, this is completely different and dragged out. Besides, Lupin would've sensed the wolf in him, if that were the case."

"What are the odds he's turning into a ferret?"

"Ron!"

"Ow, calm down, woman," Ron grumbled, rubbing at his forehead and glowering at the ink bottle she'd thrown at him.

"Maybe we can talk to Lupin directly?"

She shook her head at Harry and frowned. "Invasion of privacy, remember?"

"Never heard of it." he grinned. "Not in my dictionary."

* * *

"Never thought I'd see the day Draco Malfoy wasn't wearing girls like jewelry at a party."

Draco looked up from the bottle of dragon's breath vodka he'd been nursing and slightly raised the bottle to her in greeting.

"May I sit?"

He made a mocking exaggerated gesture for the short witch to take a seat next to him and added, "Never thought I'd see the day Daphne Greengrass asked for permission."

She smiled thinly and smoothed out her dress over the thigh of the leg that was crossed over the other.

Grabbing a bottle of opal bourbon from a passing by house elf, she raised it to his for a toast.

"To new beginnings," she said over the clink.

He arched an eyebrow at her and mused, "It's not like you to make such Hufflepuff sentiments."

"Funny. I thought it sounded rather Gryffindorish," she said drily.

His lip curled and he shook his head, glancing away at a group of giggling fifth year girls eyeing him. When one of them blew a kiss in his direction, he swallowed a large gulp of the burning liquid and turned back to the dark-haired beauty beside him.

"What do you want, Daphne?" He asked warily.

It was her turn to arch an eyebrow and she eyed him curiously. "Since when does Draco Malfoy shy away from such games?"

"People change. You said as much yourself."

"Perhaps, but I doubt anyone can change so drastically as to reject all pure blood prospects."

"Ah. This is about Astoria."

"More or less," she replied shortly though her lips twitched at the mention of her sister.

"Don't take it so personally. She's just one of many who won't get the pleasure of all this," he drawled sardonically, gesturing to his entire body.

"Hardly. Though none of those other girls had been groomed for the past two years to be the perfect Mrs. Malfoy."

"Narcissa Malfoy already holds that title, I'm afraid."

"And she was the one who chose Astoria to be the younger Mrs. Malfoy. You'd do well to respect that," she countered.

Draco's eyes glinted dangerously and his lips curled up into a sneer. "Careful, Daphne. This isn't a line you want to cross." He leaned towards Daphne, though his gaze was still focused away from her. "Tell me, do you really think your naive little sister can handle an ex-Death Eater for a husband?"

"You know who our father is. She fought in the war as well," she hissed.

Draco barked out a bitter laugh. "Don't make me laugh. Hiding behind her mother's skirts and pretending her father isn't out raping muggles isn't fighting."

The diamonds on her bracelet flashed as her arm raised, but Draco's seeker reflexes grabbed her wrist before she could slap him.

Leaning in, he snarled quietly," I warned you, Greengrass. This little stunt will cost you."

"How dare you talk about my father like that?" she retorted, the quake in her voice giving away her false bravado.

"How dare I? Ha! How dare you come here and question a Malfoy? Do you really think I'd want a wife whose worst imaginable horror is watching her sister be crucio'd for their father's transgressions? A wife who is more than happy to put the war behind her like it was just a trivial inconvenience?"

"Then what do you want? A broken victim who'll listen to you lament about how poorly the Dark Lord treated you?"

His grip tightened to the point of making her wince. "Not that it's any of your business, but Malfoys always get the best of everything, and in this case, I want a survivor. Someone strong and brave. And mark my words, I will get that. Not a shoulder to cry on, but a witch worth fighting for. Now little Astoria might be something to look at, but she's not the gem a Malfoy deserves."

Wrenching her arm out of his grasp, Daphne stood up with an affronted huff. Glowering down at the haughty blond, she warned, "You'll regret this. Don't come begging when you realize you've been chasing dreams."

"Don't flatter yourself. Malfoys don't beg," he sneered.

"Harsh," Blaise commented, taking Daphne's seat once she had disappeared to the other end of the room.

"And necessary," Draco added.

"Really?"

He shook his head, sounding resigned as he spoke, "She wouldn't have given up. You know how deluded these pureblood witches can be when they believe they're entitled to a bloke."

"At the risk of being hexed, can I just say that's a tall order you've placed."

"I know, I know. I just - after everything and all the shit I've been through, I deserve something good. I know I do. Or maybe I don't, but I'm a fuckin' Malfoy and my word is law and I say that I do."

Blaise nodded and added, "And your impending doom."

"Exactly! I nearly died, Blaise, and it wasn't the idyllic white light at the end of the tunnel crap. It was painful as hell, bleeding out one agonizing drop at a time, bones burning into ashes, and spending weeks on end begging for your heart to stop because it's too much and you just want it all to end."

Looking around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, Blaise replaced the empty bottle in his best friend's hands with a new one from a passing by elf and said, "If you're looking for a witch who understands that much suffering, I'm afraid you're fishing in a puddle."

"Not even that, I just - I want - I need someone who can understand and not just say she does to placate me. I don't want someone who'll look at me with pity or like I'm crazy."

"Most pureblood wives are raised to look the other way so you can be sure she wouldn't be looking at you like anything," Blaise remarked.

"I don't want a trophy, Blaise. If I just wanted someone pretty to look at, I could look in the mirror," Draco scoffed.

Blaise shook his head, chuckling and patting Draco on the back. "Never change, Brother, never change."

"Funny. According to Daphne, I've become an abomination to the name of Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"Well the Greengrasses are pretty desperate. Their vault took a hit, all of ours did of course, but they're having trouble recovering from it. Daddy Greengrass was awfully public about his Death Eater career and now it's costing him. I'd imagine that's why Amelia Greengrass is so eager to marry off her daughter to you."

"Why the fourteen year old though? She's fourteen now, right? I vaguely remember her mentioning she was starting at Beauxbatons back at the Christmas Gala in our fifth year."

"Shit, yeah, that's really suspicious. She's a child, like an actual child," Blaise pointed out, looking slightly alarmed. "Why not Daphne? You've practically grown up with her just a dorm over."

"Ugh, she's a self-righteous bitch," Draco muttered.

"Wow, tell me how you really feel."

"Blaise, this is a real crisis." Draco waved his arms around in the air. "Mother owled me this morning about reconsidering the little girl and then some distant, several times removed cousin from the Black side."

"Is she hot?"

"That's not the point!" Draco exclaimed.

Blaise just stared at him.

"Okay, yes, but she's a redhead. I'll wake up every morning and scream at the sight of her, thinking I slept with a bloody Weasley."

"I don't know, man, that Ginerva is a feisty one. I wouldn't mind if she made me scream," Blaise said with a wink.

"Ugh."

"Suit yourself, mate."

"I may have done some really twisted, cruel things, but is having a future with love in it too far fetched?"

"Oooh okay. Actually, I think you've had enough to drink. Let's get you to bed," Blaise said quickly, ushering him to get up.

"Given what we learned tonight, I deserve it," he argued hotly. "I get lightheaded every time I think about it and the fact that I haven't eaten all day isn't helping either."

Unsurprisingly, given how free he was being with his speech, Draco swayed on the spot before grasping Blaise's shoulder to balance himself.

"M'okay," he muttered, throwing back the remaining contents of the bottle so that Blaise couldn't take it away.

"Pray to Salazar Filch doesn't catch your wasted drunk mess stumbling to your common room, and innocent ole me helping out a friend."

Draco waved off his worries and strode towards the entrance of the Slytherin Common room, calling over his shoulder, "I'm not even close to drunk, Brother. You of all people should know"

Blaise followed behind, looking equal parts concerned and amused.

* * *

"You sure this is a good idea?"

The glare Draco shot him could've melted a glacier.

Blaise glanced over at the other Slytherins watching curiously and promptly shut his mouth. The best he could do now was watch closely and catch Draco before he passed out on his broom and plummeted eighty feet down. Not that he was hoping that would happen - just expecting. His friend may be one of the most calculating and logical person he'd ever met, but he was also fiercely stubborn when it came to things he cared about. It just so happened that Quidditch was high up on that list.

"Alright, listen up because I will not be repeating myself," Draco called out after pointing his wand to his throat and murmuring _sonorus_. "I don't care if you were on the team last year or even the past five years. Each and every one of you will be trying out if you want to be on this year's team."

Some of the upper years looked unsure, but the edge in Draco's voice made it clear he wasn't playing around. People may have wanted to believe the war had changed things but the Malfoy name still held just as much power as it did before. Draco had made it explicitly clear that he had no problem showing those who dared to question him exactly why they ought to fear him. The sixth year who brazenly asked Draco if he was actually scared of a boggart ended up pressed against the wall with a hand at his throat. An hour later, he was taken to St. Mungos with severe blood loss due to a painful nosebleed that wouldn't stop. One of the lackeys of the fifth year who called him a mudblood-lover yelled out, "Death eater," when Draco walked by and found himself choking on his own spit until he turned blue in the face. Even then, Draco smirked at the sound of his pathetic gasps and walked away, leaving the idiot to pass out.

Much to Draco's irritation, a large section of the stands was taken up by hordes of giggling girls from every house. They tried to catch his eye and shrieked excitedly at his every other move on his broom. He tuned them out easily enough for the most it, after all, being a Malfoy meant he had girls fawning over him wherever he went. The Draco back in fifth year would've revelled in the attention and flirted back just to amuse himself with the way they easily turned on each other the second he paid mind to any one of them. Now though, his sole focus was on building an unbeatable Quidditch team.

The tryouts took the entirety of the morning, with each year trying out in a group starting with the second years. He was disappointed but unsurprised when none of the scrawny brats in second or third year stood out. It was during the fourth year tryouts that he spotted a potential gem.

When the fourth years began trudging back to the stands, he approached the dark haired little girl bringing up the rear. She paused in her tracks hesitantly, her eyes a bit wide with fear.

"What's your name?"

"Madeline Montgomery, but I go by Lina."

"You're trying out for keeper? How come?" he asked evenly.

The witch was less than half his size and yet she met his gaze head on as she said, "I always play keeper with my friends."

Draco watched her eyes flicker toward her friends, standing nearby and watching their exchange carefully. He noted the barely concealed sneer on the blonde in the centre and the way the other girls were positioned around her. He remembered her barely above average tryout for chaser and put the pieces together.

Nodding, he stroked his chin and then yelled out, "Blaise, get in the air." Turning back to the confused and mildly terrified little girl, he said, "I want you to keep the quaffle out of his hands and score against me as many times as you can in the next ten minutes."

Mounting his own broom, he headed over to the goal posts, pausing midair to explain the situation to Blaise. He hid a smile at the determined expression on Lina's face as she kicked off from the ground. Just as he'd expected, the wisp of a witch zoomed in and out, over and under, dodging Blaise's notably quick hands. She used her size to her advantage and would've made a hell of a seeker too, if given the chance. Her fingers were nimble and she zipped around the pitch like a wasp. By the time he blew his whistle, she had tried to score four times. She managed to get it in twice and at the third attempt, the quaffle nearly slipped through his fingertips. Draco was more than a decent keeper and knew that with a bit of proper training, she would be able to get the quaffle past him each time.

"You belong out there, as a chaser. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise," he assured her when she looked up at him anxiously after they landed.

She looked shell shocked for a moment and then lit up with a beaming smile.

By the time he finished with the tryouts for the boys in his year, it was well into the afternoon and they had missed out on lunch. Blaise bemoaned this tragedy all the way to the change rooms.

"How are you not hungover, by the way? You drank like a fish and yet you're looking as peaky as ever," Blaise complained.

"What happened to broody sexiness?" Draco smirked, stopping in the doorway of the change rooms. "I'd rather go shower in my own bathroom."

"Lucky bastard with a personal bathroom," Blaise muttered, and then grinned. "Well except for that pretty little witch you live with."

Draco flipped him off and grimaced a moment later. "Hot shower and then a bloody nap."

Throwing his head back and closing his eyes at the sensation of icy water pounding at his searing skin, Draco swayed on the spot. Trying to ignore the building pain in his bones that had been torturing him since he woke up, he focused on his conversation with his godfather earlier.

_His godfather's eyes widened and the tense lines of his frowning mouth deepened. He took the seemingly innocent piece of parchment and read over the dozen or so names twice._

" _Is this the conclusion you've come to? That you're turning an animal?"_

_Draco narrowed his eyes and replied stiffly, "I don't see anyone else giving any bright ideas."_

_Snape sighed and rubbed at his forehead with a wince. "It…it may be plausible," he offered slowly. "Though I've never heard of Amorentia not affecting a person, there are absolutely no accounts of magical creatures being administered the potion."_

" _You know us Malfoys, have to be first in everything." Draco shrugged._

" _This is insane, Draco."_

" _I'm aware."_

_A pause, and then, "Good. As long as we've got that out of the way. Now we can proceed with this madness."_

_Draco looked at him questioningly, noting the way his face had soured as he spoke._

_Looking like he'd swallowed a lemon, Snape muttered, "Let's go speak with the werewolf."_

Regardless of Theo's theory and how well it seemed to fit in with his condition, Draco couldn't ignore the most blaring red flag of them all. The stupid immunity he'd suddenly developed to Amorentia. Of all things, it had to be a goddamn love potion. Why not the seventy-nine different types of poisons?

"Well you won't know unless you try," he mumbled to himself and then chuckled bitterly.

Despite the frigid waterfall he was standing under, Draco felt a wave of pinching pain, like a thousand needles stabbing him, rush through his body. Hunching over with his hands on the tiled walls for support, he gasped as the heat under his skin rose to an excruciating degree, not unlike the blood-boiling curse his aunt had loved to practice on him. An invisible noose closing around his neck was followed by the sensation of all his bones being charred to ash and he stumbled out of the shower gasping for breath. He frothed at the mouth as he fell to the hard granite-covered ground, blood and bile mixing to form a nauseating taste.

His vision was foggy - from lack of air, maybe, who knows - but he could see the greenish hue of his room, thankful that he'd left the bathroom door open. He couldn't even scream out in agony as he tried to drag his weakened body towards it, so tight was his ribcage. Suddenly, his hammering heart felt entirely too big for the walls that held it in and he swore he could feel it trying to rip out of his body. In fact, all of his insides were throbbing painfully, trying to break free of their prison. There was no doubt that if he hadn't been subjected to the most extremes of torture at Bellatrix and Voldemort's hands, he would've been driven insane by now if not dead.

Black spots began to cloud the sight of the black metal frame of his bed and he choked on his own blood as his limbs finally gave out. Tears burned the tracks they made down his face as he blearily looked on at his spinning surroundings. His gut clenched at the sensation of falling, falling at a breakneck speed and hitting the ground with spine-crumbling force.

"An -," he tried to breathe out.

The last thing he heard before the world went black was the chilling laughter of the monster who made him this.

" _Remember, pain is just in the mind."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my Beta luunascope for all her help in ensuring this chapter got to you guys polished and for enduring the pain of my poor bby Draco!
> 
> I know there wasn't a whole lot of Dramione in this chapter but I promise you there's a reason for it and I will be more than making up for it.
> 
> Please let me know your guesses in your reviews - I love cackling madly while reading those, knowing exactly whose right and whose wrong - and finally, finally, we're going to know what the deal is next on TWDM. If you liked this, please comment and kudos, and subscribe, bookmark, and tell a friend! xoxo


	11. Mine!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things aren't looking so good and an irrefutable claim is made.
> 
> _"You had no problem letting him bleed to death when he showed up on your doorstep with Granger. Now you expect me to believe you have even a speck of concern for him outside of your own inflated sense of heroism?" He chuckled darkly and stepped closer. "What would people say if they knew their precious Chosen One was more than willing to let a guy who was tortured with every inch of his life to die? Where did your Gryffindor morals go then?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me..
> 
> Warning: Mentions of rape and torture.

If someone had told Blaise two years ago that his oldest best friend would be enduring torture for months on end only to turn into an entirely different species, he would've laughed in their face until he was blue, hexed them, and walked away chortling to himself. Just the concept of Draco freakin' Malfoy so broken and defeated was bizarre - complete blasphemy. But now…oh how the mighty fall. He was still having a hard time believing it even though he'd been watching his friend slowly deteriorate over the months, and then alarmingly so since their return to Hogwarts.

Sighing quietly, he looked across the table at his other best friend focused on the book in his lap, eyes wide as he practically inhaled the words.

"Theo," he called out softly, careful not to startle him.

"Mhm?"

Blaise rolled his eyes when Theo didn't even look up from his book and asked, "Do you also feel like we're missing something?"

At this, the boy finally broke his attention away and peered at him curiously. "Like?"

"If I knew then I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" Blaise remarked sarcastically. "We have all the clues but we still don't know the _what_."

Theo nodded absentmindedly, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "How odd would he be if he turned into a familiar?"

Blaise snorted and shook his head, picturing Draco's temper tantrum that would follow.

A flash of copper caught his eye and he trailed his gaze on the willowy girl that had just entered the library. She spoke with Madam Pince quickly before making her way through the shelves. It irked him that she had strolled past their table without sparing even a glance. Pushing his chair back and getting to his feet, he sought to remedy that immediately.

Leaning against the bookshelf, blocking the end of the aisle, he watched her with a faint smile. She trailed her fingers across the spines, her eyes narrowed with focus as she read each title. When she'd found the one she was looking for, she tapped the spine twice before pulling it out of its place. She turned on her heel and stopped short at the sight of him.

"Fancy meeting you here, Ginerva," he said with a dip of his chin.

She held herself ramrod straight, her features stiff but not outright cold. "It's a library, Zabini. People come here often to get books."

He smiled wider and straightened up, enjoying the alarm that flitted around her face for a mere second. "How astute of you."

"What are you playing at?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at his slow prowl.

He didn't respond until he was only a foot away, cocking his head at her and responding, "Do you like cheesecake, Ginerva?"

That surprised her, so much that she didn't even notice him closing the distance between them until she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze as she said, "I never said you could call me that."

"You can call me Blaise if that makes you feel better," he offered lightly.

"Not really," she bit out.

"Shame."

"Is it?" she challenged.

"To be deprived of even a slight of your affection is a travesty," he purred, his own gaze darkening with desire.

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her hair back. "Did you practice that in the mirror?"

"Enough times to know I look like a dashing rogue about to ravish the swooning wench," he said, smiling smugly down at her.

"In that case, you're barking up the wrong tree," she retorted coolly.

He arched a brow at her, a trick all Slytherin boys had learning in their first year to intimidate and impress, but she gave him a fake smile and gestured for him to move aside. She was surprised when he complied with a flourish and forced herself not to walk too quickly.

"Late for your date with Thomas?"

She faltered momentarily before calling over her shoulder, "Jealous? You're not exactly his type."

For a few minutes after she left, he stood in the same spot and breathed in her unique scent of spicy apple cider. Then shoving his hands in his pocket, he strolled out of the aisle and back to his seat. Theo looked at him curiously and then with concern when the dopey smile on his face wouldn't leave.

"Cornering her everywhere she goes isn't going to make her fall for you," Theo piped up.

"Have you seen this face?" Blaise smirked but his friend just shook his head, mumbling about whether he had the bigger ego or Draco.

"Still, she's a Gryffindor and you know their lot likes things done differently."

"Mhm, like the interview process she's going through, those dates each with a different bloke?"

Theo chuckled at the disgruntled look on the Italian's face and reached over to pat his hand. "Just admit you're jealous, find your balls, and go woo her like a proper pureblood gentleman."

"But I am wooing!" Blaise protested.

"That usually involves flowers, or if you're Longbottom then a rare species of some sort of deadly plant."

"Witches don't just drop their panties for expensive bouquets," Blaise grumbled as he reached for a book in his bag.

"Of course," Theo said wryly. "It's not like you want to be bound to her in a Marriage Vow or anything."

"It's not like that - what? Stop laughing! I'm serious. It would be stupid to jump into a relationship with something as serious as marriage in mind."

Theo snorted. "Is that what you learned from your mother? That marriage is a serious commitment?"

Blaise rolled his eyes but he couldn't hold back his laughter. "Okay, okay, I get it."

"Do you?"

Blaise looked up sharply at the serious tone in Theo's voice. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Theo put the book aside to begin taking notes for his Charms essay, hunching over the parchment and not pausing in his frantic scrubbing as he remarked, "You'll be here waiting for some sort of sign to tell you that you're mature enough to ask the witch you fancy for her hand in marriage, while the witch in question will have chosen an intended and be bound to him long before."

Blaise scowled and slumped in his seat before remembering his breeding and straightened his posture. "Stop rubbing it in my face. I know that once she's bound to another wizard she'll be completely off limits and out of the question - out of…FUCK!"

Theo jumped in his seat at the sudden loud noise and looked around fearfully before realizing it was just Blaise. His friend rushed to empty the entire contents of his bag on the table and shifted through it, all the while muttering under this breath.

"Uh, Blaise? What're you doing?"

Blaise looked at him with wide eyes and froze for a moment before the words came rushing out of his mouth. "Fuck, it was right there. The answer was right in front of us! I can't believe I didn't - shit, how could I miss this and bloody hell, poor Draco. The signs, Theo, it was the signs and they were - they were always there."

Theo couldn't remember a time in his life where Blaise had stumbled over his speech and was a little dazed to witness such an event.

"Blaise? Have you been bitten by an acromantula recently? You're exhibiting all the signs of the beginning of a four stage response to the poison," he said loudly over Blaise's constant steam of mumbling. Theo's brow furrowed with worry but then he saw a grin split across Blaise's face when he thrusted a crumpled parchment up in the air.

"Ha!"

"Blaise? Um…should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

Blaise shook his head and asked excitedly, "Do you remember what you said the other day? In Draco's common room? We were talking about the Marriage Vow and you said the only thing that could break-"

"- the only thing that could break a Marriage Vow is a Veela mating bond," Theo finished for him, still confused. "What does that - oh. Oh! Wow."

"You're a genius, Nott. I could just kiss you," he exclaimed.

"But you're not going to, right?" Theo confirmed anxiously.

Blaise just grinned wickedly.

"So you think that Draco…that he's a Veela?"

Blaise nodded quickly and placed the parchment on the table between them. He picked up his quill and began drawing markings as he went through the list of symptoms. "Veela's are predators, right? With those talons and wings, all that cool shit. That also explains the heightened hearing, oh, and the fact that the lucky fucker has gotten all pretty, more than before if you can believe it."

Theo nodded, beginning to catch on and excitement taking over his own features. "The sudden growth spurt too, that's a part of coming into your Veela inheritance. Not to mention, the fevers and headaches. Veelas go through that as well when their body adjusts with the changes but it's not even close to the amount of pain Draco is in or over months at a time. That's probably why we didn't notice."

"Hence why he's still freakishly strong despite being weak with illness," Blaise added. "Remember that punch that made a hole in a bloody stone wall?"

"Wait, but is Draco even supposed to - like does he even have the gene?" Theo wondered, looking startled now.

"Honestly, that stupid, shiny hair of his should've been our first clue. It's a dead giveaway," Blaise complained with a roll of his eyes.

"I guess, and the grey eyes too. Those are typical of a French Veela, unlike the blue eyes that English Veela's have."

"Huh, who would've thought?"

"Well, you would've, I mean, if you read ahead to the chapter of Veelas that we're covering in DADA."

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Theo stuck his tongue out at him and then began packing up all his stuff. At Blaise's confused expression, he explained, "Shouldn't we go tell someone?"

"Shit! You're right."

They hurried out of the library, ignoring Madam Pince's protests - "No running in the library, you ungrateful cretins!" - and immediately turned in opposite directions. They'd made it halfway down the hall before realizing the other wasn't beside them and came to a stumbling halt.

"Where are you going?" They both yelled out simultaneously.

"Draco!"

"Snape!"

The two Slytherins stared at each other for a moment until Theo reasoned, "If we go to Draco he'll just drag us to Snape anyways. Might as well go straight to the old bat."

Blaise sighed dramatically and slowly walked over to Theo with his nose upturned like a proper pureblood. Reaching Theo, they exchanged a look and then broke into a sprint to the dungeons.

Professor Snape had been in the midst of terrorizing a third year Hufflepuff for his runny draught of peace when two boys barged into his classroom. Snape stared with a horrified expression as they bent over with their hands on their knees and wheezed for air. Though his gaping expression melted into one of anger when they began gasping out unintelligible words, throwing their hands around and talking loudly over each other.

"…figured it…should've known -"

"- bonds that can break…."

"- stupid blond hair -"

"…his inheritance, I tell you!"

" - a bloody bird with fangs and shit."

"And the punch, don't forget the pun -"

"SILENCE!"

They immediately froze, Blaise with his arms up in the air and Theo punching his palm repeatedly, like a tableau. It was then that they noticed the other students crowded around their cauldrons and the vapours that were rising around their heads, especially Snape who looked like he was about to blow steam out of his ears.

"What. Is. The. Meaning. Of. This?"

Theo gulped and Blaise let out a whimper.

"Well? Don't just stand there like a pair of candlesticks."

Slowly pulling their limbs back to their sides, they shuffled their feet and tried to look around for an escape route. There were none. When it seemed like the fire breathing dragon before them wouldn't let them get away without roasting them alive, they took deep breaths and tried again.

"We, uh, that is, Theo and I, we figured it out," Blaise started hesitantly.

"The thing! We figured out the thing," Theo clarified in a hushed whisper.

"The…thing?" Snape stared at them blankly.

"You know, the thing we've been trying to solve but we had nothing."

"Well actually not nothing," Theo corrected.

"True, yeah, we knew some things, but now we know _the_ thing," Blaise stressed. Beside him, Theo nodded eagerly.

"Mr. Zabini and Mr. Nott, I have a class to teach and though you may not be familiar with the concept of keeping busy, some of us are. So, for the love of Salazar, would you kindly get to the point?" Snape said in an exasperated tone.

Well aware of the curious eyes on them, Theo leaned in and whispered cautiously, "We know what _the dragon_ is going to turn into."

Snape opened and closed his mouth twice before it finally clicked and he gathered himself. Clearing his throat, he nodded and instructed quietly, "Go and grab him, then bring him to my office. This is my last class of the day so I should be finished by the time you find him."

When they finally closed the door of the classroom behind them, Blaise nudged Theo and burst out into laughter.

"The dragon? Seriously?"

"What? I couldn't exactly say Draco Malfoy in case one of those kids heard and spread it around," Theo cried defensively.

"I bet that's what he calls his junior. _The dragon_!" Blaise imitated in a deep voice and sniggered at Theo's scowl.

"C'mon, before Snape gives us detention for taking too long," Theo muttered. "Where do you think he is?"

"He said he'd be taking a nap after so I'm guessing still in his room."

Fortunately, the Heads dorm was located near the dungeons and so they didn't need to trek across the entire castle. To their dismay, King Arthur wouldn't let them through without the password, despite all their pleading that he'd met them as Draco's friends a few times before.

"Wow, your curves!" Blaise exclaimed, fluttering his eyelashes at the portrait. "Those calves are to die for."

"Why, I never!"

Theo shook his head at his pitiful attempts and knocked politely. Blaise rolled his eyes and banged his fist loudly, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Draco, get your arse out here!"

"It's extremely important!" Theo added.

At the lack of response, they exchanged worried looks.

"More important than your hair, blondie!" Blaise called out.

Theo looked alarmed. "What? No, not that important, but still an emergency!"

Blaise groaned and explained exasperatedly, "He doesn't need to know that. We're just luring him out."

"Oh. Draco, I take it back! It's a lot more important than those sleek locks!"

Nothing. Absolute silence.

"Should we blast it open?" Blaise asked him out of the corner of his mouth.

"Are you crazy? Don't you d-" the portrait cried out before it was swung open.

"Granger, I could just kiss you," Blaise exclaimed, before he noticed her frazzled appearance. "Did you lose a fight with your cat?"

She shook her head frantically and stepped back to let them in, wringing her hands together as she explained, "I'm so glad you're here. Have you guys seen Malfoy? I think something happened to him."

"What do you mean?" he asked as she led them up the stairs.

"You should come see for yourself."

She took them into her room and paused just before the door to the adjoined bathroom she shared with the Head boy. Blaise thought she looked a bit queasy but forgot the thought the moment he saw what lay behind the threshold.

"What the fuck?!" Blaise yelled out in shock.

"I found it like this. His wand, it's still on the counter there," she added, pointing out the dark wooden stick that stood out amongst the light sea green colour scheme of the bathroom and the red liquid that stained the floor.

"D - Draco?" Theo swayed on the spot a bit, looking unusually pale.

The shower curtains had been ripped off, taking with them a puddle of water onto the ground. A pool of blood collected in the centre of the bathroom with a runoff that trailed into Draco's bedroom in an alarming amount. The scent of burning flesh lingered in the air, making Theo's stomach roll and tainted memories flood through his mind unbidden. He stayed back, his knuckles white from gripping the doorway tightly, while Blaise crouched down to take a closer look at the blood.

"Is it just me or does it look like -"

"Like he dragged his body until it gave out," Theo finished for Blaise in a monotone whisper.

Blaise took in the closed off expression on his friend's face and the emptiness in those dark eyes. No doubt he was dealing with the painful memories this would dredge up.

"Theo?"

"We have to find him. With the amount of blood he's lost and the condition he was already in, Draco won't last much long," Theo continued, swallowing hard before turning on his heel.

"Theo, are you sure you -" Blaise tried to ask, running down the stairs after him.

"There's no time. I'll go tell Snape. Talk to the portraits," was all Theo said before stepping out of the portrait hole.

"Portraits?" Granger asked, following Blaise down to the common room.

Blaise glanced at the mess that was once their perfect Head girl, from the dried tear tracks running down her cheeks to the way her hands with shaking uncontrollably. Even her lower lip had been chewed out in anxiety, and this was all for a boy who had called her mudblood the last time they had spoken. Instead of responding, he just shook his head and hurried out.

"Did you see the Head boy leave?" he asked once the portrait swung close behind him.

"Aye! Blondie didn't look too well either. All pale and red, he was," crowed King Arthur.

Blaise gaped at him and then yelled, "Why didn't you mention this before?!"

"Why didn't you ask?"

"I did!"

"Stop screaming, boy. You wanted to be let in without a password. You never asked if the Head boy was inside."

Counting down from ten, Blaise waited until he had the urge to set the portrait on fire under control and then, throwing it a dirty look, he left.

He stopped at a portrait located just before the corridor containing the Head dorms broke off into two hallways leading away from each other and gave the naked nun a description of his friend - "A tall, pretty blond…walks around with a swagger like he owns the place, has an award-winning resting bitch face, mostly likely dripping blood. Seen him around?"

Following in the direction the naked nun and her neighbouring portraits pointed to, Blaise wandered through the intersecting halls of the dungeons. His heart was pounding in his chest and all he could think of was the horrific image his brain was conjuring of a dying, bloody Draco. He needed to find his best friend. He needed to find him before it was too late.

Shaking his head, he silently berated himself for thinking this way. Draco would survive - he had to. The poor guy went to hell and back, now only to be defeated by the crazy fantasies of a madman who was long gone. Even the Fates couldn't be so cruel.

Turning the corner, he nearly ran into Snape and Theo, skidding to a stop just in time - good thing too; Snape would've set his arse on fire.

"Did you find him?" Snape questioned immediately.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at him and said, "If I had, would I be here instead of with him?"

Snape growled and if it weren't a dire situation, he would've strangled the idiot boy.

"What did the portraits say?" Theo interrupted before they had a homicide to clean up. Then, turning to Snape, he explained, "They might've seen him leave his dorm. Instead of running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, we'll have some sort of idea of where he went."

"They pointed me in this direction."

"Be as it may, there are no portraits now that we're near the classrooms," the Potions Master observed.

"The only way from here would be up," said Blaise and groaned in frustration.

"Unless he's in one of these rooms," said Theo.

"How are we supposed to find one guy in an entire castle?" Blaise hissed. "Even the blood trail stopped back there."

"What about a locator spell?"

Snape shook his head at Theo's suggestion. "It's a tricky spell when you're using it on a living being and with Draco's magical core so volatile, it would be dangerous to attempt to trace his magical signature."

"Should we go to his dad?" Theo asked reluctantly. "Maybe there's some Malfoy heirloom that could -"

"ANYA!"

Both of them jumped at Blaise's sudden yell but before they could even question it, a tiny house elf wearing a puffy pink dress appeared next to them. She cocked her head curiously at the Italian who was surprised himself at her presence.

"Didn't think that would work," he mumbled and cleared his throat. Remembering how she responded fearfully to everyone except Draco, Blaise smiled down kindly at her. "Anya, Draco needs your help. He's very injured and needs to be taken to the hospital wing immediately."

Her eyes widened comically and tears welled up as she squeaked out, "Master Draco is hurt? Master Draco needs Anya?"

"Can you take us to him?" Theo added.

She nodded frantically, her large ears flapping around, and snapped her fingers.

When Blaise felt his feet hit the ground and the spinning sensation of apparating faded away, he opened his eyes and swore loudly.

"No fucking way," Theo gasped.

* * *

It took a few minutes and four different types of breathing exercises for Hermione to get her panicked sobbing under control. She had been too shocked to react when she first saw the state of the bathroom. It wasn't until her mind had processed it all after Blaise had left that the fear began to descend. Her heart had dropped to her stomach, leaving a strange sort of tightness in her chest. Swallowing hard, she clenched her fists to stop their shaking, but what was she to do about the weakness in her legs?

Seeing all of that blood and the way it trailed away had turned her blood to ice. It was his wand, however, sitting innocently upon the countertop, that had been like a punch to her gut. A wizard without his wand on his person? Especially a pureblood who had grown up living and breathing magic? That was what terrified her most. If Malfoy left his wand behind without a second thought, what sort of condition was he in?

"Portraits…what…portraits?" she muttered under her breath, pulling on the ends of her hair. "Come on, Hermione. Brightest witch of your age. Live up to it."

Throwing the portrait door open, she came face to face with a Harry with his fist raised to knock. He took in her disastrous appearance and immediately started checking for injuries.

"Harry…Harry, I'm fine," she insisted, pushing his grabby hands away.

"There's blood on your pants!"

"It's not mine," she choked out. Shaking her head against the second oncoming wave of tears, she explained, "It's Dra - Malfoy's. He's missing and most likely in a really bad way."

"Oh shit. I came to see him actually," he admitted. "There was…Hermione, I heard the voice again. I wanted to see if Malfoy did too but…."

"We'll think about that later. Right now, we need to focus on finding him and getting him medical attention."

"Do you have any idea where he could even be?"

"No, but the portraits…oh!"

"Huh?" He could only stare as she hurried down the hall and then rushed to catch up with her.

She stopped before a painting of a dozen people around a table, drinking and laughing in merriment and cleared her throat loudly. "Excuse me? I'm sorry for bothering you but I was just wondering if you happened to see the Head boy - a tall, blond guy - walk by."

At her words, they started to titter and a man in a frock coat said loudly, "Ah, yes, madam. We saw a pretty boy walking around here a short while ago."

"My god, was he something to look at!" the woman across from him exclaimed.

Her friend leaned over to add, "I'd drop my knickers for that boy."

"Margaret! How could you say such a thing?"

"Scandalous!"

"Have you no shame, woman?"

"Oh hush, Francis. He was truly an exquisite specimen and that bloodied outfit of his was quite enchanting."

"What wouldn't I give to have him in my bed for just a night?" the bearded man at the head of the table lamented.

Margaret and her friend broke out into giggles and reached for more wine.

"Can you tell me which way he went?" Hermione pressed on, ignoring Harry's gaping mouth and flaming red cheeks.

Pulling the nonplussed dark-haired boy along with her, she followed the direction Margaret had pointed her in and stopped when they reached the corridor with Snape's classroom.

"What're we going to do now?" Hermione walked around in circles, trying to wrack her brain for an idea.

"Um, Hermione?" Harry croaked out.

"What?" she snapped without pausing.

"What if he went up those stairs?"

She stopped in her tracks at his strangled tone.

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

He looked like it physically pained him to get the words out. "What if Malfoy's disappearance and the voice I heard, both happening at the same time wasn't a coincidence?"

"Are you - are you saying that -"

"- that Malfoy might be in the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry finished for her. "Unfortunately."

Biting down on her lip, Hermione considered how badly she hoped he wasn't in the chamber against the likelihood of it. Unfortunately, she hated the conclusion she came to.

"Fine. Lead the way, snake boy."

"No, no, no," Theo muttered, running to the prone figure lying on the stone cold floor. He grabbed his shoulders and shook them violently, agony blurring his mind into irrationality.

Blaise pulled Theo away, allowing Snape to hunch over Draco's body and place two fingers against his carotid artery.

"He's breathing. It's shallow, but…." Snape trailed off, focusing on stalling the bleeding that was still taking place from the wounds on his back.

Draco was pale, unnaturally so, from the blood loss. His limbs were arranged in a supine position and a frown rested on his bluish lips. Blaise reached out to touch the top of his hand and flinched back at the coldness of it. If it weren't for the red staining his white button-up shirt and his sickly pallor, Blaise would've thought Draco was just simply sleeping.

The loud clanging of metal against metal reached their ears and they turned to watch the circular gate open to reveal two Gryffindors. Potter and Granger froze, shocked at the sight of the three of them huddled around the unnaturally still form of the Head boy. An odd sort of screech escaped Granger's lips and she sprinted across the wet, stone floor to Draco's side.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Blaise demanded.

Potter approached cautiously and shrugged, his narrowed gaze focused on the hidden alcoves of the giant serpents in the vast chamber instead of his nemesis.

Snape raised an eyebrow at the frantic murmurs of the Gryffindor Princess - "No, no, wake up, Malfoy." - but continued working with every healing spell he could remember. Sitting back on his heels, he called out sharply, "Anya."

Malfoy's blubbering house elf apparated the six of them out of the chamber with a snap of her fingers, and they nearly gave Madam Pomfrey a heart attack when they suddenly appeared in her ward.

Minutes later, the four students - two Gryffindors and two Slytherins - found themselves standing out in the hallway. Madame Pomfrey had only allowed Snape to remain inside so that he could provide his knowledge of Draco's situation and expertise on healing potions while she worked quickly.

Theo was slumped against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his face completely devoid of any emotion. Blaise paced back and forth in front of him, muttering under his breath, much to the annoyance of the curly-haired girl sitting on the floor crosslegged across from Theo.

Granger had just been about to snap at Blaise for egging on her anxiety when Potter placed a hand on her shoulder and said quietly, "He'll be okay, Hermione. This is Malfoy we're talking about. It'll take a lot more than this to kill the wanker."

Theo didn't look away from the crack in the floor he had his glassy stare trained on.

Blaise finally came to a stop, turning to look at Potter with disdain. "Why are you even here, Potter?"

"I - uh, well -"

"If you're sticking around to satiate your curiosity, you should leave now before I pummel you so hard that your boyfriend, Weaselbee, can't even recognize you."

Potter scowled and retorted, "I cared enough to go looking for him, didn't I?"

Blaise snorted and even Theo furrowed his brow at those words.

"It's not like I want Malfoy dead, regardless of how much of a prat he might be."

A hand on his wand and eyes narrowed sharply, Blaise snarled venomously, "You had no problem letting him bleed to death when he showed up on your doorstep with Granger. Now you expect me to believe you have even a speck of concern for him outside of your own inflated sense of heroism?" He chuckled darkly and stepped closer. "What would people say if they knew their precious Chosen One was more than willing to let a guy who was tortured with every inch of his life to die? Where did your Gryffindor morals go then?"

Flushed up to his ears, Potter opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by a tired voice.

"I think you should go, Harry."

"Hermione, you -"

"Leave." The iciness with which she spat out her words made it clear she had yet to forgive him for his actions back at Grimmauld Place.

* * *

The next few hours were the longest of Hermione's life and she would always remember Malfoy crying out in pain as his body convulsed on the hospital bed. It took them three hours to completely stop his seizures and another two to close the inflamed gashes on his back. That was when Snape finally stepped out of the Hospital Wing, looking haggard and disheveled.

"He's asleep, or rather in a magically-induced coma," he explained wearily, his eyes flickering to Hermione. "We put him under using one of my own creations, Somnium Mortuum, and now he'll wake up when he's ready."

"Ready? What does that mean?" Zabini asked hurriedly.

"And what about all that bleeding?" Nott croaked out, speaking for the first time in hours.

"His symptoms have been stabilized so he's no longer at risk, but it's not over yet. The potion will keep him in a coma to allow his body to heal and complete the changes, and only when he's fully transformed will he awaken."

If Malfoy's friends and godfather had any suspicions when she didn't question his remark about the transformation, they didn't voice it.

"Can we see him?" she asked anxiously.

Snape took in the state all three of them were in and shook his head. "Get the house elves to bring you a meal and get some sleep. You can come see him tomorrow. It won't do any good for him to wake up to the fright you three are. Clean yourselves up and clear your heads."

Snape expression made it clear that arguing would do no good - not that it would help even if he was in a good mood - so the three of them silently trudged down to the dungeons. Hermione mumbled out a, "goodnight," when she turned into the hallway of the Head dorms and ignored King Arthur's questions, cutting him off rudely to give the password.

Thankfully, the house elves had cleaned up the disaster that was the bathroom, the floor tiles sparkling innocently at her. She carried out the motions on autopilot, even managing to nibble on the sandwich sent over from the kitchens while she was in the shower. When it came time to sleep, however, that was when she came to life. Her mind whirred as she leaned back into the armchair before the fireplace, the one Malfoy always sat in, and she knew there was no way she'd be able to sleep tonight. Instead, she took on a determined expression and changed out of her pyjamas before hurrying out of the common room. Luck seemed to be on her side tonight - she laughed bitterly at the irony - as she didn't encounter any professors or Filch. Even the Gryffindor common room was empty, the dying embers in the fireplaces casting shadows on the walls of the tower she called home for six years. Tiptoeing into the boys' dormitory, she knew what she was doing was very much wrong, but she couldn't find it within herself to care. Ron's loud snores covered the sounds of her unlocking Harry's trunk and pulling out the silvery cloak.

Slipping in through the doors of the Hospital Wing, her breath caught in her throat when she reached his bedside. Moonlight shone brightly from the windows, illuminating his form to the appearance of a wounded angel. The infamous blond Malfoy hair, now stuck to his forehead with sweat, glowed like a halo and accentuated his pallor. Madame Pomfrey had arranged him onto his side, so as to not disturb the volatile gashes on his back, and Hermione pulled up a chair by his front. She couldn't resist the urge to reach out and brush her fingers against his cheeks, and was surprised at the warmth in them. His fever had gone down from earlier but not completely, she noted.

"I didn't take you for a quitter, Malfoy," she said quietly.

Tears trailed down her cheeks and a small smile rested on her lips as she remembered the first time she'd said those words to him.

" _What did you do to piss him off?"_

_Draco didn't even bother opening his eyes as he replied tiredly, "Do you ever stop, Granger?"_

" _I didn't take you for a quitter, Malfoy."_

_The cold air of the dungeon cell penetrated his skin to reach down into his aching muscles. He was long past the point of shivering, instead just slumped against the gritty stone wall as still as he could to keep from jostling his broken rib. The subtle magic of the Malfoy signet ring, an ancient heirloom passed down father to son, worked excruciatingly slowly to mend his injuries, but it was enough to keep him alive. It also helped that the Manor elves had been sneaking in food and water for them. The shock on Granger's face when he tossed an apple at her had been priceless._

" _Do your parents know what's he's doing to you?"_

_He couldn't hold back his flinch this time, his mind immediately flashing to his mother's sobs echoing in his ears when the Dark Lord gave him his most recent "lesson"._

" _Granger, if you don't shut up, I'm going to personally come over there and strangle you," he growled, but there was no malice in his voice, just exhaustion._

" _No, you won't," she argued and he heard her shuffle around and whimper. "I'm all you have down here."_

" _Which isn't much," he muttered under his breath but he echoing quality of the dungeons made sure his voice reached her ears._

" _Shouldn't you have some kind of fail-safe mechanism hidden in here for situations like this? It's not very smart, is it, getting locked up in your own house."_

" _No Malfoy would ever need it because they wouldn't be caged in their own home," he couldn't resist snapping waspishly._

" _And yet here we are."_

_Gritting his teeth, he forced himself not to respond violently when both of them were nursing extensive injuries. Never mind that it would be counterproductive to kill the bitch after going through the trouble of protecting her under Bellatrix's wand._

" _It's as if you don't even want to get out," she continued after a few minutes of stifling silence._

" _C'mon, Granger, you're supposed to be smart. The only way we're making it out of here is if your idiot friend does his job right, which doesn't seem likely since there's still half of the horcruxes out there."_

" _Wh - how'd you know that?" she gasped._

_Rolling his eyes, he sneered, "What sort of books did you think you'd find in the library of a Death Eater family?"_

" _Oh."_

" _Yeah. Oh. I'm not second to you in our year for naught, Princess."_

_She began to respond but the sound of a door opening and heavy footsteps making their way downstairs made them both cringe as far back into their cells as they could. Holding his breath, Draco kept his gaze on the foot of the stairs while he knew Granger would be squeezing her eyes shut to play off unconsciousness._

_Greyback's towering form was a terrifying sight, scars marring every inch of his grotesque body and a malicious grin framing those deadly canines. He was surprised when the werewolf didn't even pause to throw insults at him - knowing the Dark Lord would Avada him for touching a hair on his heir's head - but when he came to a stop before Granger's cell, Draco's blood turned to ice._

" _Greyback, what're you doing?" he demanded, scrambling to his feet despite the agonizing protests of every cell in his body._

_Greyback's hysterical cackling could be heard even over Granger's screams, amused by her attempts to break out of his hold. She scratched tooth and nail at every inch of his body that she could reach, but she was no match for his strength when he pinned her down on her front. He tightened his steel grip on her wrists until the audible crack of her bones breaking could be heard._

" _She's the Dark Lord's prisoner. He'll kill you for breaking his new toy," Draco warned, his voice strained from the effort to keep his panic hidden._

_Greyback leaned away from his prey and eyed Draco with a cruel smirk. "I don't think so, pup. Potter's mudblood is mine now. A little reward for catching the slut in the first place. If she won't open her mouth to answer our questions then she can put it to better use."_

_Draco swallowed hard, fighting the tears came with the memories of each time the Dark Lord had made his followers watch Greyback tear apart his enemies. He wouldn't just rape her, no, he'd destroy her. Her screams would only encourage him to violate her every hole savagely until she'd lose her mind under the constant crucio's. The cold, lifelessness in her eyes as he continued to plow in and out of her would spurn him further. He wouldn't stop until he had ripped her in two and her entrails were scattered across the ground._

_Petrified with horror, it was the sound of tearing fabric that broke Draco out of his appalling thoughts and he acted instinctively. His hands flew out before him and didn't even recognize the words he was yelling until Greyback was thrown back against the bars of the cell. Not giving the werewolf even a second to recover, he muttered under his breath continuously until the werewolf was screaming in agony as tiny paper cuts sliced open every single inch of his body._

_Draco was riding high on the burst of adrenaline that fuelled his strong wandless magic despite the fact that the dungeons of Malfoy Manor were designed to be entirely anti-magic. Not giving a moment's thought to how this was even possible, he magicked open the door to his cage and stalked towards the shrieking creature. Placing a foot on his throat, Draco cancelled the curse and glared down at him with disgust, "Seems like you forgot my warning. Told you not to cross me or I would put you down. Filthy fucking mutt."_

_He pulled his foot away only to kick him in the side, the satisfying sound of bones cracking making his lips curl up into a sneer. He waited for the werewolf to stop coughing up blood and look up at him disdainfully._

" _Avada Kedavara!"_

_Draco kept his eyes locked on Greyback's even after the green flash of light disappeared, enjoying watching the life leave his body. A muffled sob caught his attention and he kicked the limp body away from him before turning to face her. She was curled up in the corner, clutching the scraps of her clothing to her body and staring at Greyback's lifeless body with frantic eyes._

" _Granger?" he called out softly but she still flinched._

_When she turned that wild gaze on him, he wasn't sure if he should approach her. She knew what he was capable of now, she knew that he was more than willing to kill. Any second now, the shock would turn to revulsion and he would become a monster in her eyes._

_He had only taken a step further when she suddenly threw herself at him. A tangled mess of curls tickled his chin and he could feel her tears soaking into the collar of his shirt. Her bony body shook violently in his embrace and she gripped him tightly enough to bring his pain back to the surface. However, hearing her blubber, "I - I thought…thank you, thank you…you saved me…so scared and I -," and the overwhelming feeling of relief that followed made it worth it._

_He rested his chin on her head and squeezed her tighter, ignoring his protesting muscles. "Shh, I've got you, Princess," he murmured._

When Madame Pomfrey came to check on Malfoy in the morning, she was shocked to find the brunette curled up in a chair by his side. Instead of scolding her, she let the girl sleep while she performed her tests on him and headed back to her office with a smile.

The entire day, Hermione refused to leave his bedside, her chest tight with the irrational fear that his condition would worsen when she wasn't there. How could she sit at the Gryffindor table and eat with her housemates as if Malfoy wasn't lying in a hospital bed three floors above? How could she laugh with her oblivious friends and pretend everything was fine?

Zabini and Nott weren't surprised to find her there when they came in the morning, but they were definitely shocked when she was still there by dinnertime. Snape had tried and failed to get her to leave, even to just grab a quick bite. The Potions Master had been taken aback when she ignored even Dumbledore's direct orders.

The Headmaster, for the most part, had known of Draco's deteriorating condition - not a thing happened in his castle without his knowledge, after all - but even he had been astonished when he heard the cause. Zabini and Nott remained tight-lipped around her, whispering to each other while she ignored them in favour of the essay she was working on. Snape saw no reason to tell her that her classmate was a Veela, regardless of her strange attachment to the young Malfoy heir.

When the two Slytherin boys left for dinner, finally leaving her alone for the first time that day, she shuffled closer to the bed. Elbows resting on her knees, she leaned in close enough to be unsettled by his sickly, hospital smell. In fact, seeing him so fragile and vulnerable didn't sit right with her. He shouldn't have to deal with this, not after everything Voldemort already put him through.

"What're you doing, Malfoy? You're supposed to be out strutting in the halls," she whispered and giggled at the image it gave her. "It's unbecoming of a Malfoy."

His suffocating silence sobered her up immediately.

"You promised, Draco," she said, her voice cracking on his name. "You swore you'd never put me through this again but - but…but-"

She'd been holding in her tears all day, but now any semblance of control escaped her.

"I was s - so scared. I thought I'd lost you and- " she sobbed into her palms. Dragging her hands up to run her fingers through her tangles, she whimpered, "Don't leave me. Don't you dare leave me."

She could just imagine him rolling his eyes at that and scoffing, "I'm not a fuckin' Hufflepuff, Granger, so quit with the bleeding heart shit."

"We both survived. By some miracle, we made it out. You can't quit on me now," she mumbled. "Wake up already."

She reached for his hand and brushed her lips against the back of it. Her face scrunched up at the foul hospital smell assaulting her senses. She was so used to that sweet jasmine, balanced out by the spice of his cologne. She never even realized when his scent had became so familiar, but now -

Hang on.

Jasmine?

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

Cologne…french cologne?

"Holy fuck," she breathed out and swallowed hard.

This couldn't be…right? There was no way - not with who he was and who she was. But if there was even a fraction of a chance of this being true, then she was truly and utterly screwed.

"Hermione?"

Jumping back into her chair, she twisted her head around to stare at her best friend with wide eyes. She knew she must've looked like a mess, what with the ugly crying and the fact that she had parked her arse in this chair for over twelve hours.

"Harry, fancy see you here," she tried to joke with a nervous laugh.

"Are you…Hermione, are you crying?" he gaped, confused more than anything.

Shaking her head, she wiped at her eyes and asked, "What're you doing here?"

"You didn't show up for breakfast or lunch…and dinner. I thought you were in the library but then I noticed the cloak was missing and of course, it was you who stole it," he remarked with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, about that…sorry," she offered.

He glanced over at Malfoy and winced at the state he was in. Even Harry felt uneasy at the weakened condition his childhood nemesis.

"Hermione, you need to eat," he began and added quickly when he saw her about to refuse, "Just ten minutes, I swear. Nott was finishing up his meal when I left and he'll come to take your place."

"But -"

"He's going to be fine, Hermione. He's not in any danger, just asleep," he reassured her.

Reluctantly, she allowed him to pull her up and placed a hand on the small of her back to lead her away. They hadn't taken even two steps when she felt warm fingers close around her wrist.

"M - m - ine."

She gasped when Malfoy tightened his grip and his eyelids started to twitch as he began shifting around.

"I'll go tell Pomfrey."

She nodded at Harry and looked back to find slate grey irises staring at her intently. He was sitting up now and slowly leaning closer to her.

"Mal -"

A shriek left her lips when she suddenly found herself airborne and then encased in a pair of firm arms. Her head was supported by his bare chest, the heat from his skin searing through her blouse, and his chin rested lightly on her head. Catching her bearings, she pushed against his chest and tried to shove back against the arms caging her in.

"Malfoy, what're you doing?" she huffed when he finally loosened his grip enough to allow her to look up at him.

The edges of his lips curled up, the action reminiscent of his trademark smirk but without the smugness, and she could see amusement dancing in his eyes. She couldn't understand why he was behaving like this, let alone why he was so pleased. Remembering that Madame Pomfrey would be coming in any minute now, she resumed her pushing.

"Look, you need to let go of me. She needs to check on your injuries," she explained quickly, squirming in his hold to try and get away. "You very nearly died, Malfoy, and you -"

The words got lost in her throat as his stormy eyes dilated and she froze when she felt him harden against her thigh. His gaze was darker now with lust, trained on his prey as she tried to reason with herself why she should be struggling harder. She could feel his hold tighten for a moment before he pulled his arms away to grip her waist.

Her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure even he could feel it. Both of their chests heaved with their laboured breathing and mesmerized by the pink tip that flicked out to wet his bottom lip, she didn't notice him closing the distance. One hand trailed up her side to come up and cup her cheek. He was looking at her with such intensity, making her head spin lightheadedly, that she would've passed out if he hadn't been holding her so firmly.

"Malfoy?" she breathed out.

His thumb brushed over her bottom lip and pressed down faintly as resolution flickered in his features.

Their mouths clashed in a desperate struggle for dominance. There was nothing soft about their kiss, instead his hand tangled in her hair to keep her pressed against him until they had to come up for air. Hermione barely registered him flipping them over, her sole focus on the pleasure vibrating through her when his teeth nipped at her lower lip and the war their tongues were waging.

A low keening sound escaped her when he pulled back to take in the sight of her panting beneath him. Her hooded gaze drew him back in and he groaned into her mouth when he felt her grind up into his cock.

"Ahem."

The clearing of a throat made them freeze and while rationality was coming back to Hermione, Draco could feel a red haze cloud over his thoughts. Whirling around, he made sure her petite body was completely covered by his much larger form and snarled at the group of people across the room staring openmouthed.

"Mine!" he growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet, but I hope it makes up for the little dramione as of yet. I'm sure you can imagine that loads of dramione is on the way.
> 
> Thank you everyone for all your feedback and support! I just love reading all of your reviews - each one makes me grin madly. Also, my beta luunascope is to thank for letting me vent to her and bounce ideas off that amazing creative brain of hers!
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this, I really hope the reveal lived up to all the hype and you weren't disappointed.
> 
> Comments & Kudos are love (and motivation to write more, but shh)!


	12. Wings of the Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco makes a mess but he also can't stop thinking about Granger's tits.
> 
>  
> 
> _With his back to the other occupants of the room and the large black wings enclosing her away from their prying eyes, he took in her disheveled appearance. The top three buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing a lacy black bra that didn't exactly help with the tent in his pants. Hair mussed and lips bruised, he decided right there that she ought to look like this all the time. At least that way everyone would know she was properly taken._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

Draco's growl reverberated throughout the Hospital Wing, rattling the windows and beds. A thrill of pleasure went through him at the sight of the visitors nearly tripping over themselves to back away from him. They had dared to intrude on what was to be a sacred moment and even now they were too close to what was his.

He watched them carefully, his eyes trained on their fidgeting hands and the way they stared back with gaping mouths. He narrowed his eyes at that and let out a short growl. His warning caught their attention and wisely, or rather out of fear, they shifted their gaze around nervously.

The sensation of awe infiltrated his senses, leaving his chest puffing with pride before he could even place the source of such an emotion. It was coming from the petite witch behind him, he noted satisfactorily. Keeping his senses trained on the suspicious group of people, he turned slowly to face the frozen witch. A flash of black in the corner of his eye drew his attention away from the wide-eyed brunette, and he nearly jolted over in shock. Sheer panic overtook him, accompanied by the overwhelming burden on his back. Twisting his neck to get a better look at the monstrosities attached to him, he stumbled to his feet and knocked into the bedside table. Vials shattered onto the floor, colourful puffs of smoke rising from each spill, and he stumbled backwards.

The heat of embarrassment overpowered his shock and it took him a moment to realize that the sensation wasn't coming from him. His eyes snapped back to the figure huddled on the bed, blushing down past her collarbone to the swell of her exposed breasts. He didn't even think, just reacted with a speed no one imagined he would possess. With his back to the other occupants of the room and the large black wings enclosing her away from their prying eyes, he took in her disheveled appearance. The top three buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing a lacy black bra that didn't exactly help with the tent in his pants. Hair mussed and lips bruised, he decided right there that she ought to look like this all the time. At least that way everyone would know she was properly taken.

He tried to fasten the buttons but she pushed his hands away with a huff. Instead, he resorted to pouting as she fixed her hair and straightened up her outfit. He could pinpoint the exact moment that Granger realized she was caged by glossy black feathers because of the amazed look on her face, followed by confusion when she couldn't figure out where they ended and began.

"What the -" she broke off with a squeak when he moved at an inhuman speed.

With wings spread out behind him, he drew himself up to his full height and snarled at the approaching witch. Pomfrey froze in her steps and held up her hands in surrender.

"I'll need to look you over, Mr. Malfoy. You've been in a magically-induced coma for an entire day and had numerous seizures," she explained in a placating manner.

He sized her up with narrowed eyes but refused to move even an inch. The air in the room was fraught with fear, the sight of Draco Malfoy with his large wings and sharp fangs filling them with unease. Everyone was torn between wanting to approach their friend that had just returned from Death's door and hiding from the predator they didn't know.

"Malfoy, she's right," Granger said softly, quiet enough that only he could hear. "You need to let her do her job. You very nearly died."

The warmth of her small hand seared into the back of his neck, the only part of his skin she could reach around his wings and it sent a trickle of heat down his spine. A low keening sound fell from his lips unbidden and he leaned back into her touch. The dragging of her fingers up into his hair had his eyelids fluttering closed and a pleased smile crossed his lips.

The sound of a throat being cleared loudly cut into the peaceful haze he had been lulled into and he growled softly in response.

"Oh no, please continue. Don't let our being here disrupt your mating," Blaise called out, sounding very amused.

Mating?

Mating…oh fuck.

Draco felt the panic well up again and this time it chased away the anger he felt at the presence of others. His wings twitched with the tautening of his shoulders as he looked around warily. Blaise was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning while Theo fidgeted anxiously at his side. His godfather looked nauseated and shockingly, paler than before. Lupin was looking on with worry, a half smile on his tired features. Draco was irritated by the sight of Dumbledore, who not only had the nerve to be here but was also looking out the window and whistling quietly.

"Ah Severus, what pleasant weather we're having," he remarked offhandedly. "Perfect for a stroll by the lake, wouldn't you say?"

Judging by the expression on his face, it was clear that Snape would much rather walk into a crypt of starved vampires.

"I-I'm so sorry, Professors," Granger stammered nervously, poking her head up around his wings. He could even feel her embarrassment in warm waves. "I don't know…I don't know what got into me."

"Almost Draco," Blaise coughed.

If looks could kill, Blaise would be roasted alive by the intensity of Granger's glare.

"Mr. Malfoy, will you kindly allow me to examine your injuries?" Pomfrey tried again.

He nodded after a moment of hesitation and the relief was visible on her face as she slowly approached him. He could hear Granger shifting uncomfortably behind him and he had to swallow down the urge that rose from his gut to ease her nerves. His muscles tensed up as the matron neared and he couldn't help recoiling away from her touch. Steeling himself, he clenched his fists and forced himself to stay still as she began her examination. Granger threw her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet as quietly as possible. She hadn't taken a step away from the bed when Draco's hand shot out to grab her wrist.

"Malfoy?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, he muttered, "Stay."

He couldn't explain the rubber band around his chest that tightened with every step she took away from him. He didn't even want to begin thinking about the compulsion that quivered in his bones, screaming out for the feel of her skin pressed against his. Instead he ignored the fact that he hadn't even grabbed her consciously and that everyone was eying him curiously.

His self control lasted all of twenty seconds before he found himself bearing his new fangs just inches away from the matron's throat. Realizing her mistake, her hand shook as she pulled it away from the wounds at the base of his wings. It was a warning rather than attack, instinctive more than vicious.

His movements were too quick for any of them to react or even realize what was happening until he stopped. Pomfrey, petrified, stared with wide eyes, all the blood drained out of her face. Granger jerked away in shocked, but the startled cries of Lupin and Theo drowned out her yelp.

"Draco, mate, Malfoys don't partake in cannibalism. Narcissa Malfoy would be most displeased," Blaise drawled.

Though he could feel her concern like a warm glow, Draco was barely aware of Granger's unsuccessful attempts to pull her hand out of his tight grip as he shook his head.

"I don't know what…just don't touch there," he mumbled.

Pomfrey swallowed hard and replied softly, "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I'll have to check on your wounds. Your…ah…wings are protruding out of those gashes and there's still some bleeding."

"Draco, if I may?" Snape called out and met Draco's eyes with a silent understanding.

Draco nodded slightly with a nauseous look on his sharp features, tensing his muscles in preparation. Even though he knew the incarcerous spell was coming, being bound down to the bed on his front was no more bearable.

Face turned to the side, he clenched his jaw and stared resolutely at the curve of Granger's slim neck. The pulsating artery beneath her creamy skin sang out to him like a Siren's call, begging to sink his teeth into. He wondered if her blood would taste as sweet as she smelled.

When he felt the mediwitch's fingers probing at the base of his wings and her fingers brushing against the inflamed flesh, Draco shut his eyes tightly and chose to focus on Granger's unique scent. Cinnamon, cardamom, and rose took over the deepest recess of his senses, allowing him to slip away from the anger raging in the pit of his stomach at being violated in such a way. He didn't understand a speck of what was going on, what had become of him, but he knew allowing that woman anywhere near his wings was an atrocity.

His ears picked up on Granger falling into the chair at his bedside and Theo shuffling nervously beside a strangely stationary Blaise. Lupin's heartbeat was rapid, which he suspected was normal for a werewolf, and the scent coming off him made Draco restless.

The tautness of invisible ropes against his body disappeared, the sudden lack of pressure breaking him out of his concentration.

"There you go, Mr. Malfoy. You can let yourself up now," Pomfrey said.

He did as she said, careful not to let go of the Head girl as he adjusted himself to sit upright, the damned wings leaning against the pillows. He could feel her eyes boring a hole into the side of his head with an intensity only Granger could muster.

"Someone needs to explain to me what the fuck is going on," he said loudly.

"Mister Malfoy, before we do so, I'd like to assure you that if you chose to you would be more than able to rip all of our throats out before we even raised a wand. That being said, may we come closer?" Dumbledore countered calmly.

Draco frowned, the logical part of his mind telling him the Headmaster was making a fair point. The more innate part of him argued against allowing the five males closer to them, or rather, closer to her.

"Draco, my wolf recognizes you as a predator and respects your territory," Lupin added, giving him a reassuring smile. "Professor Dumbledore is too old to take on a partner and you know your godfather respects your choice and considers her a goddaughter by proxy."

Snape choked out a sound akin to a cat being strangled and sputtered, "More like I hate your bushy-haired know-it-all."

"Ah, Remus, I'll have you know that, just last week, a very fetching older witch was eying me most provocatively across the bar at the Leaky," Dumbledore pouted.

"You know well enough that redheads are my type," Blaise pointed out with a shrug.

Theo coughed and added, "More importantly, you're our brother and that means she's off limits."

"Oh, I guess there's that too," Blaise agreed.

The hurricane raging within Draco quelled to a rough sea, but his mind wasn't so easily placated. Granger's confusion was only amplifying his own. Swallowing hard, he asked, "She…sh - what are you all talking about? My choice?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at him and remarked, "You know well enough what - or rather whom - we're talking about. Don't play dumb, Draco. It's not convincing on a Malfoy."

"Maybe we should go back to the beginning," Lupin interrupted, catching the panic welling up on Draco's face.

"That's usually the best place to start," Dumbledore offered.

Exchanging looks with Theo, Blaise knew that a completely human and healthy Draco Malfoy was volatile with their Headmaster. But now when he had wings, fangs, and even talons at his disposal? This was a recipe for carnage.

"Theo and I actually found you," Blaise said, and then added reluctantly, "As did Granger and Potter."

Draco stiffened at this and unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand. The idea of his arch-nemesis finding him at his most vulnerable - again - did not sit well with him, especially since the first time around he very nearly died.

"How'd you know I was in trouble, anyways?" he asked quickly to distract himself. "I told you, Blaise, that I was going to nap."

At this, everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably and Draco narrowed his eyes at the apprehensive look Blaise sent Theo before he explained, "Our boy Theo here was the one who solved the puzzle…uh, mystery? Whatever, but he figured out just what you were turning into and we went to go find you."

"Granger let us in, she was actually the one who noticed that, er, that noticed…she noticed that you were, um, missing," Theo said quietly.

"Missing? Missing? What the hell do you mean missing?" Draco cried out in alarm.

"Exactly that. You weren't anywhere in your dorm," said Blaise.

"Don't fuck with me, Blaise," Draco warned heatedly. "I passed out while crawling out of the bathroom. How the bloody hell can you say I was missing?"

He could feel Granger tensing beside him at his ire, but he refused to let go.

"That's something none of us understand. We were actually hoping you might be able to enlighten us," Lupin admitted.

"The boy just said he passed out. He doesn't know how he ended up in the Chamber of all places," Snape snapped.

"Chamber?! Tell me you're not talking about the one with the creepy interior design!"

"What other chamber do you know about?" Blaise gave him an odd look.

"Lovely. Really fuckin' lovely. Why couldn't it be the Chamber of Flying Unicorns? Nope, it just had to be the one with the dead snake," Draco muttered furiously.

Granger was amused, the stupid bint, he noted with irritation. Didn't she understand how serious of a situation this was? Though he guessed that after being tortured by his aunt not much would be dire enough to fret over.

"You were in coma for the entire night and day," Lupin continued. "Fatally high fever, seizures, consistent bleeding. Sound familiar?"

Cocking an eyebrow, Draco shook his head disbelievingly, "No fucking way."

"Huh, I never even noticed that," Blaise mused. "But I thought this wasn't like back when you nearly bled to death."

"Wait, you mean this is the same as what happened back at headquarters?" Granger asked, any amusement vanishing instantly.

Draco just sighed in response. A flash of remorse flickered through him, but he paid the foreign emotion no mind. He was more interested in Theo stepping forward with a pensive look on his face.

"We can contemplate that weird coincidence later. Let's get back to the matter at hand."

Draco nodded. "Would somebody just explain what the fuck is going on?"

"Okay, now don't freak out, though you should have figured it out by now," Theo began warily. When Draco glowered at him silently, he said quickly, "You're a Veela."

"Wait, what?" Granger exclaimed, her voice shrill with shock.

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times, his normally pale face even more ashen. In the back of his mind, he registered the anxiety shimmering off the witch beside him but his own shock was overwhelming.

"You're sure this isn't some elaborate ploy with the intent of humiliating me?" he demanded furiously. "Need I remind you all that I have the money and influence to make you disappear without a trace? Even in broad daylight."

Cocking an eyebrow at the frazzled blond, Blaise remarked, "Why in the name of Salazar would we want to humiliate you? Theo and I may make some questionable decisions every now and then but we're not suicidal."

"Do I look like the joking type, Draco?" Snape questioned dryly.

Much to Draco's irritation, the Headmaster gave him an indulgent smile before turning back to his perch by the window.

"I'm afraid this is very much real," Lupin said apologetically.

"Fuck," was all Draco could manage before falling into silence. Closing his eyes, he rubbed at his temple and the headache that was forming there. His body still throbbed with exhaustion and even his back was sore. The severity of the mess he had found himself in was beginning to weigh down on him. He didn't know what to do, much less what to think.

"So what does all this mean? Am I going to walk around with these abominations on my back?" he asked tiredly.

"I thought Veelas didn't have wings or claws unless they were angry," Granger pointed out.

"Correct, but he's not exactly a regular Veela," Lupin said.

"Must you Malfoys do everything differently," Snape grumbled.

"And dramatically," Blaise added. "Don't forget how they take everything and make it fifty times more dramatic."

Draco glowered at him.

"But your fangs are gone," Theo said suddenly. "I don't think I see them."

Running his tongue over his teeth, Draco nodded with much relief.

"His talons are gone too," Granger said, her voice calm despite the panic he could feel welling up in her. "I felt them shrink back after he relaxed a bit."

"There's nothing even remotely relaxing about this," Draco grumbled.

"I think, for now, you need to figure out how different you are from the conventional Veela," Lupin said carefully, stroking his chin. "Besides, you should have solid base of reference to go off of if you completed your assigned readings for tomorrow's class."

Theo nodded eagerly at Lupin's expectant look, while Blaise stood beside him and swore under his breath, "Fuck." Even Granger was shifting nervously beside him, much to his surprise, considering the swot probably finished the work at least a week before it was due.

"Is 'I was too busy bleeding profusely to an untimely death' an acceptable excuse?" Draco questioned.

Lupin smiled warmly. "In that case, I expect your essay to be exemplary, what with all this first-hand knowledge."

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Draco sighed after a moment of silence.

"Afraid so, mate," Blaise said sympathetically.

Draco nodded, more to himself than anything. His thoughts were beginning to get worked up as he processed everything that happened since he woke up. He had avoided thinking about his…um, incident…with Granger after he woke up, but he couldn't for much longer. Not when her body heat was seeping into his skin and he could feel her anxiety, as if it were his own, well enough to feel nauseous. How was he supposed to erase the feeling of her hot little mouth on his, her tight body arching into his embrace?

Shaking the dangerous thoughts creeping into his mind, Draco shook his head and looked up to find everyone eying him apprehensively, or in Theo's case unable to meet his eyes. Blaise had an odd sort of constipated expression, as if he couldn't describe whether he was concerned or amused. Even Snape was watching him pensively.

"What?" Draco asked warily.

"You've consistently scored in the top three in your Defence classes each year," Lupin said slowly. "Surely you know a Veela's most defining trait."

Oh how badly Draco wanted to feign ignorance, to pretend he couldn't hear the heartbeat beside him speed up along with his own. As if he couldn't feel her panic rising in akin to his. He tried to get the words out but they shrivelled up in his throat, his tongue flicking out to wet his cracked lips.

"Draco?"

His godfather's face was a stony mask, just like his own, but it was their eyes that spoke volumes. One of trepidation and the other concern. Slate grey sought reassurance where there was none to be found.

"Mates," he said finally after summoning courage like a long-drawn breath. "Veela's take on mates, to whom which their survival depends on."

He could feel seven pairs of eyes on him, each of them coaxing him to continue. Silence drew on and when it was evident that no one would reprieve him, Draco continued quietly, "The Veela's entire world revolves around their mate. Since they're very territorial and possessive, Veela's want to complete the mating ritual as soon as possible. If the mate rejects the Veela, it becomes depressed and pines until it dies of heartbreak…literally."

Granger's emotions spiked and he could practically taste her distress on his tongue. This nudged him onto the path of denial.

"So what happens now?" he asked evenly. "When can I be discharged?"

"Mr. Malfoy -" Pomfrey began.

"There's also the matter of -" Lupin called out.

"Draco, buddy, let's be real here," Blaise tried consolingly.

Snape droned on over the overs, "Don't behave so obtusely."

"- Must remain on bed rest for…."

"- Your perfect match in body and mind…."

"- think of the angry sex…."

"Malfoys don't hide away from -"

"I'm not hiding!" Draco snapped, the growl in his voice cutting everyone off abruptly.

Blaise remarked, "I don't have a dictionary on me but if -"

"Put a sock in it, Zabini," he said irritatedly. "I'm not - I just, look, I just want to know when I can leave this suffocating hospital room and go back to my own bed. I'd also prefer not to miss any classes so…."

"And how do you plan on doing that, young Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore spoke up for the first time. "Are you prepared for your classmates to catch sight of your new form?"

Draco clenched his jaw to keep in the slew of profanities he'd been building up for his dear old Headmaster.

"Am I going to have to glamour these…these things?" Draco asked, gesturing wildly over his shoulders.

"The wings are not our top priority and can be dealt with afterwards," Lupin said, grimacing at having to be the one to go there. "There is a more pressing matter at hand."

"Right, mother and father are going to lose their shit. Of course, why didn't I think of that…there must be some way to -" he said quickly.

"For the love of Salazar!" Theo yelled. "Can you shut up and listen?"

Draco blinked at his usually reserved friend.

"Your mate, Draco, you should know already," Blaise continued for the red-faced brunette. "She's -"

"I'm your mate, Malfoy."

Her voice reverberated around in his skull like a quaffle, her every word a strike of the bat. He released her hand as if he'd been burned and recoiled with a hiss. He didn't have to look at her to know she had been hurt by his reaction, not when he could feel the sting in his chest as if it were his own.

"There - there must be some mistake, yeah, mistake, or, uh, misunderstanding," he spluttered, his wings twitching behind him in agitation. "Maybe the Veela - the Veela part of me is confused. It could be some sort of trial run thing. I'm not a normal Veela, right? Isn't that what you said? Who knows if I even have a mate?"

"Draco," Snape tried to interrupt.

"And even if I do have a mate, there's no way it would be her," Draco finished with a sneer.

His cruel words hung in the air for a moment, only to be shattered by a muffled sob. His face fell when he saw tears glistening in ocher pools of anguish and a tiny hand barely concealing the angry pinch of her lips. Grabbing her wand, she kept her face averted as she made her way to the doorway.

"Granger, I -" he cut off at the bang of the hospital wing doors slamming open.

Two imposing figures strode in, robes billowing behind them, only to come to a graceful stop before the lithe Gryffindor. The tension in the room raised several notches at the few seconds of silence that followed.

"Ms. Granger," Lucius Malfoy greeted coolly with a bow of his chin. His eyes swept over the other occupants of the Hospital Wing, pausing on his son for a short moment. "I wouldn't have expected you to be amongst Draco's peculiar assortment of well-wishers."

"Of course not," she responded stiffly, her voice betraying none of the distress her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks did. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa didn't even hear the brunette or the sound of the door closing behind him, all her focus instead on her son. Ignoring the reproachful look Lucius shot her, she swiftly walked to Draco's bedside and without even taking in his appearance, pulled him into a tight hug.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," she whispered fervently. "My son, my baby."

"I'm okay, mother," he murmured, taking in the familiar fragrance of expensive french perfume and the exotic garden she tended to for as long as he could remember. "I'm okay now."

She squeezed him tight for a moment before pulling back to look at look at his face. He could see her mask coming back in place with the thin lining of her lips and hardening of her eyes. She released him and smoothed out her robes before placing a hand on his shoulder and turning to look at her husband.

Lucius stopped at the foot of the bed, taking a moment to rake his eyes over the sleek black appendages on his son's back. His only reaction to the wings was raising a brow into a perfect blond arch and then he inspected the boy they were attached to.

"Why is it that I was told my only son is in the hospital more than a day after he was brought in?" Lucius asked slowly, each word punctuated by ice.

"You need not concern yourself, Lucius. Young Draco here was in excellent hands," Dumbledore said solemnly.

"Not concern ourselves?" Narcissa repeated venomously, her eyes flashing. "Our only son was dying and you thought it wasn't critical enough for us to know? What is this, Dumbledore? Are you running a school or a madhouse?"

"Cissa -"

"No, Lucius, he needs to hear this. Tell me, Dumbledore, what would you have done if he didn't survive? Would you have sent us a letter with your condolences and then wipe your hands clean of the issue?"

Lucius made his way around the hospital bed and wrapped an arm around his wife. When she made to sneer at the unabashed Headmaster some more, he squeezed her tight and whispered in her ear. His words had a visible effect on her as she breathed in deeply and reclaimed her composure.

"Madam Pomfrey, would you kindly go over Draco's charts and his condition?" Narcissa smiled stiffly at the matron.

Pomfrey didn't respond right way, hesitating and glancing over at Snape before drawing her wand. Producing a pale blue hologram of Draco's torso, she began explaining the gashes on the back. Like a true pureblood princess, Narcissa didn't display any outward reaction to the horrifying words she heard except for tightening her grip on his shoulder. Draco didn't even wince, knowing he deserved a lot more than the sting of her manicured nails for the grief he was putting his mother through.

"I see," was all she said after Pomfrey finished describing what panic attacks were. Nodding shortly, she called out, "Headmaster, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with my son and his godfather. In fact, the three of you as well, you were involved in this little operation, were you not?"

Narcissa waited until Dumbledore had left and Pomfrey had excused herself to her office before spinning on her heel.

"You," she snarled, pointing her wand at Lupin. To his credit, he merely crossed his arms across his chest, not looking the slightest bit bothered. "What on earth were you thinking bringing a boggart of all things into a classroom of children who'd just come out of a war?"

"Mother -" Draco tried to interrupt.

"Have you lost your mind, half-breed?"

"Mother, none of this is his fault."

"Quiet, Draco, I for one agree with Narcissa. What were you thinking, Lupin?" Snape sneered.

"I will not," Draco snapped. His wings puffed up behind him and the air around him crackled with electricity. "If you're going to blame anyone, blame me."

Lucius looked aghast. "Malfoys are not martyrs!"

"They're not impulsive either. Mother, will you please put your wand down and hear me out before you let that infamous Black temper loose?"

Were it anyone but her son, Narcissa wouldn't even consider abiding. Shooting Lupin a warning glare, she crossed her arms across her chest and turned to Draco expectantly.

"I'm sure you know that I haven't been well for a while now. The truth is, I haven't been well since the Dark Lord moved into the Manor."

Narcissa's hand flew to her mouth and she whispered, "But, Draco, that's years."

"Three years to be exact. The year after his return I was at Hogwarts for the most part so it was fine. Then he gave me the Mark and my body pains began. I was thin and sickly, couldn't keep food down or even sleep without seeing him torture you in my dreams. I chalked that up to stress from the task he gave me. After that, though, he was always around in the Manor and I couldn't escape this feeling that something was crawling under my skin. My symptoms worsened and so did his lessons." Draco shuddered. His tone had darkened as he travelled farther down the shady alley of memories. "I shouldn't have survived but I did and I owe my life to Professor Lupin."

"Why didn't you tell us this before?"

He barked out a laugh and said bitterly, "You were trying to bury all traces of the darkness in our home. How could I break that smile on your face by telling you how close you came to burying my body?"

Narcissa moved to touch his face but he shuffled out of her reach. Looking away from the hurt in her eyes, he continued, "These symptoms worsened over the past few months and came to a culmination last night. If it weren't for the boggart we might not have ever known I was cursed."

Narcissa had heard enough for her fire to tamper down enough for Lupin and Snape to explain the meeting with Bill and the Somnium Mortuum potion used to put him in coma. Blaise and Theo piped up at times to add remarks of their own research and their "heroic" rescue of Draco.

"There must've been a breeze in the Chamber, you should've seen my robes billowing out behind me. I daresay I looked dashing as I raced to save the blondie in distress," Blaise boasted loudly. "My muscles were glistening in - ow! What the hell, okay, okay, Theo was there too. Jeez, no need to get violent. Oh, perfect, he can vouch for my sexy - ouch!"

By the time everyone fell silent, looking at the Malfoys for a reaction, Lucius had fallen back into Granger's chair and Narcissa was stunned. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking.

"You're trying to tell me that my son, my Draco…is a…is a Veela?"

Five pairs of heads nodded and the blood drained out of her already pale face. Nodding absentmindedly, she whispered, "That - that explains a lot."

"The insomnia and lack of appetite," Blaise agreed. "You also mentioned in your letters that he had grown taller."

"Essentially a really long normal Veela transformation. Several months instead of a couple of days," Theo added.

Turning her pale blue eyes on Lupin, she questioned, "Is he any different from a born Veela?"

Lupin blinked in surprise. "We're not quite sure about that yet."

She dipped her chin. "Yes, I suppose time will tell. Hopefully he has all the gifts of the Veela. That would be the best case scenario."

"Wait what?" Draco protested. "You're not angry?"

"Of course not."

"But I'm not a pureblood anymore." Draco looked utterly perplexed.

"Darling, you could be a muggle and I wouldn't care. You're my son and I nearly lost you too many times in the past two years. This time was too close for comfort." She smiled sadly at the blatant relief on his face. He truly believed his parents would disown him because he was no longer the very thing their family has always prided themselves on being.

"Father?"

Narcissa glared at her husband, silently daring him to him to reject their son. It seemed like the man wasn't as foolish as she'd thought, for he coughed and added awkwardly, "Technically, Veela blood is still magical and thus, you're still a pureblood."

Narcissa shook her head in agreement and reached out to cup Draco's cheek. Smiling tenderly at his instinct to lean in closer, she murmured, "This is a blessing, my dragon. Whatever motives that madman may have had, this is a very fortunate gift the stars have bestowed upon us."

Draco wasn't the only one who cried out in surprise, Blaise and Theo jumping forward with their own bewilderment.

"You were always so stubborn about having me read you a story before bed, refusing the elves and demanding a Malfoy always got what he wanted," she recalled fondly, images of a rambunctious blond boy running around the Manor and wreaking havoc. "Do you remember the one of the Veela and her little wizard?"

"Yes, but that was just a bedtime story."

"All stories have roots in physical truth, Draco. The Veela in the story was very well respected by the entirety of the magical world and that is no different in actuality."

"Your mother is right," Lupin said, unfolding his arms and tucking them into his pockets.

"Veelas are powerful creatures of magic and I'm not just talking about their hypnotizing allure. They don't need wands to perform magic and though their magic isn't as versatile as ours, Veelas manipulate the magic in the atmosphere, drawing it from the air around them."

"Veelas also have a very coveted gift that many would give their lives for," Narcissa said.

"What -"

"Mates." Draco flinched at his father's voice and everyone else in the room seemed to be holding their breaths. "Veelas know who their soulmates are and all their powers are attuned to protecting the mate. Whereas the rest of us humans stumble around and only one pair of soulmates in a century manage to find each other."

"How is it good if the Veela dies without their mate?" Blaise asked with a frown. "Who'd want to be pussywhipped - sorry, Mrs. Malfoy - for their entire life?"

"Do you have any idea of what happens when soulmates bond, boy?" Lucius barked, leaning forward on his toes and narrowing his eyes at the suddenly nervous Italian. "Their magical cores combine and the resulting power is unimaginable. They feed off of the other's magic. You can think of it like having two magical cores each so twice as much of the magic you have at the moment."

"More importantly," Narcissa interjected, throwing her husband a dirty look. "She's your soulmate, your perfect half. This girl was made for you, and you for her. You'll complement each other in every way possible and love with every fibre of your bodies. What greater happiness than the other half of your soul?"

Blaise couldn't control the laughter bubbling out of him and ended up choking in his attempt to muffle it. Theo elbowed him in the side when Narcissa shot them a dark look. Snape looked like someone ran over his cat and presented its entrails to him, much to Lupin's amusement.

"Cissa, my love, it's getting late and we'll be missing our reservation if we -" he trailed off at the narrowing of his wife's eyes and added quickly, "I'm sure Draco needs his rest as well."

Though Narcissa was torn between her bedridden son and the new five-star Japanese Teppanyaki restaurant, it didn't take much convincing on Lucius and Draco's part.

"We'll be back tomorrow, sweetheart," she reassured Draco before Lucius dragged her out of the Hospital Wing.

"Until we figure out how Veelas tuck in their wings it's probably best if you stay away from the other students," Lupin suggested.

"Do I really have to stay here overnight?" Draco complained, shooting a baleful glance at Pomfrey's office.

"You're not completely in the clear yet. This way Madam Pomfrey will know if you have a seizure or the wounds open, and she can take care of it right away. Your mother will have our heads if we take any such foolish risk," Snape drawled. Rubbing at his temple, he shook his head and muttered, "I need a drink to forget this ever happened."

"I'll come by after class. Boys, curfew," Lupin called out before following Snape out of the Hospital Wing.

Instead of saying their goodbyes and making their way back to the dungeons, Blaise and Theo pulled up chairs to his bedside. Draco looked on questioningly but Blaise jerked his head slightly to tell him to keep silent.

Blaise counted to thirty under his breath and then pulled out his wand to cast an assortment of charms, including notice-me-not, muffliato, and sensori depor. The latter of them was Draco's own creation to numb the olfactory senses of anyone who came within a five foot radius.

Pulling out a thin wooden box from his pocket and setting it on the bedside desk, Blaise lined up a dozen blunts that had rolled after breakfast that very day. Each of them had a distinct aroma and he went through sniffing about half of them before finding the perfect one for Draco. Lighting the tip with his wand, he handed it to the blond and crowed, "Cheers!"

"Aah, this really hits the spot," Draco moaned after taking his first hit of his go-to marijuana strain for stress-relief. "Just in time too. That painless potion was beginning to wear off."

"Just like old times, huh?" Blaise grinned, handing Theo a spliff.

Theo gave him an odd look as he lit the end of his blunt with his wand. "I don't think Draco wants to remember the time Potter cut his chest open and he nearly died."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "When is this guy not on the brink of death?"

"I'm a risk taker, what can I say?" Draco said drily.

Theo chuckled.

"Snape's got the right idea. Let's get stoned enough to forget all this bullshit," Draco remarked between hits of his blunt.

Blaise placed a hand on his shoulder and declared solemnly, "Draco, mate, I hate to break it to you but no amount of drugs can make us forget the monster clump of feathers that ripped out of your spine."

Draco glowered and whipped the remains of his finished blunt at his head.

"Just pass another one, dickhead," he muttered, his wings twitching in annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your overwhelming response! Each review blew me out of the water and I tried to return the love with this chapter. I hope it suffices!
> 
> Also, please please please don't kill me for this but these daily updates were only to catch you up to speed with the reveal. When I initially came up with the plot line for this fic, the stuff leading up to the mating was only supposed to be around 5 chapters. Which then became a lot more as I started writing and added more tidbits and subplots. With finals coming up, daily updates will be impossible and I don't want to make false promises to you all. I hope you understand and I'm sorry if I got your hopes up.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta luunascope for her praise, encouragement, and much needed criticism for making this chapter happen!


	13. Ascension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione both learns and teaches a lesson, while Draco gets help from an unlikely source.
> 
> _He was the corpse of a boy caged within a man haunted by his sins. Piercing, angelic features and eyes awash with cruelty - her future was an enigma covered in scars. He was the consequence of a war waged by a madman, a mere puppet dangling in a battlefield built on the bodies of her kind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

"Ungrateful cockroach," Hermione muttered under her breath, stalking through the empty halls.

With only her wand to light her way, the castle was eerie this late at night. It was past curfew on a Sunday night and so all the students were in their beds - much like she should've been.

"But nooooo," she moaned angrily. "You just had to play nurse to that son of a bitch. This is what you get for camping at the bedside of an arsehole. Lesson learned for naive little Granger."

"Talking to yourself, girlie?" crowed one of the portraits.

"That's a sign for madness if I ever saw one," his neighbouring portrait added.

"Shut up," she growled, brandishing her wand at them before doubling her speed.

King Arthur was woken from his slumber by her fists slamming on his portrait and he yelped in shock.

"Cornua serpentis," she hissed.

Grumbling about mannerless children with a bird's nest for hair, the portrait swung open to let her in. She stomped through the dark common room and up the spiral staircase. Pausing in front of the Head Boy's room, she glared at the plaque with "Draco Malfoy" engraved into the silver metal and then impulsively kicked the door.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Hopping around on one foot and clutching the other one in her hands, she cried out, "Bloody stupid door!"

As much as she just wanted to fall into bed after the poor sleep she got in the hospital chair, Hermione needed a hot shower. Her muscles protested at the sudden cascade of warmth soaking through her pores when she stepped under the waterfall showerhead. She scrubbed at her skin harshly, watching it blotch red from the abuse. She could still feel his touch searing into her despite the hot water, filling her veins with unease. Not matter how much she tried, she couldn't erase his presence which was etched into her bones.

Wrapping her terrycloth robe around her body, she set about her nightly routine of moisturizing her face and braiding her hair. Magically cleaning her teeth always left a gross sort of slimy feeling in her mouth and dental hygiene had been ingrained into her since she could hold a toothbrush. There was something to be said about repetitive mindless tasks, the way they allowed errant thoughts to run rampant. One hand holding her toothbrush and the other gripping the edge of the counter tightly, she glared at her reflection. The puffy bags under ocher eyes filled her with shame. All these tears and ire wasted, and on what? A racist, arrogant, spoiled brat? Had she sunk that low?

_No_ , she realized, staring down at her whitened knuckles. This wasn't about blood supremacy anymore, nor was she a naive schoolgirl crying over the cruel remarks of her schoolmates. Voldemort had dug a grave and Malfoy pulled her in with himself. She was left staring up at the scintillating sliver of light teasing her as her bloodied fingers throbbed from clawing at the dirt walls.

"Mate," she whispered to herself and her hands shot up to touch her lips right after. How could one word hold such weight, the implications of it wrapping around her like quicksand?

Her instinctual response to this revelation had first been doused by Malfoy's condition, but now in the privacy of her own room she was free to yell out, "No!" all she wanted. There was no confused blond who had been to the brink of death and back several times to capture her attention. Those smouldering eyes of steel couldn't mesmerize her into saving his life out of pity. There weren't any lips as soft as rose petals coaxing her skin, crackling with electricity.

But she couldn't.

Hermione Granger was a woman of logic, ironically, despite her immersion in the world of magic for the past eleven years. She didn't have it in her to deny the events that transpired in the past forty-eight hours. She could swear that Malfoy was playing a nasty trick on her that she was fool enough to fall for or that she was lonely enough to hallucinate an elaborate romantic fantasy until she was blue in the face but what good would it do her?

Trying to wrap her mind around the bizarre concept that Draco bloody Malfoy was a Veela made her head spin. Swallowing the kernel of truth that she was his mate made her gut ache and lurch. What was she supposed to do? What did everyone expect her to do?

No.

This wasn't about what others wanted from her. She needed to learn to put herself first for once and take her own feelings in consideration. But what were they? Hermione didn't know how she felt about being someone's _mate_ \- let alone Draco Malfoy's - but that was because she didn't even understand what being a mate meant. Not to mention, just an hour ago she was trying to come to terms with the possibility of the blond pain-in-her-ass dying, but now she had to contend with the responsibility of spending the rest of her life with him?

The eerie glow of the lake emanated from her window, casting shadows across the tired lines of her face. Lying in her too-big bed, letting herself be swallowed into the comforter, she stared up at the ridges in the plaster of the ceiling. She tried to picture the treacherous path before her and the bittersweet fruit it may reap. A distant future filled with dark ink singed into pale skin that mocked her each morning that she awoke wrapped in strong arms.

The temptation to let these worries overwhelm her was strong and entirely too effortless. To allow herself to fall into the screaming abyss of an unknown future was the path of least resistance. He was the corpse of a boy caged within a man haunted by his sins. Piercing, angelic features and eyes awash with cruelty - her future was an enigma covered in scars. He was the consequence of a war waged by a madman, a mere puppet dangling in a battlefield built on the bodies of her kind.

The first rays of dawn broke through overcast skies and filtered in through the magic of the glass panes of her window. Murky, black waters of the lake shimmered into an eagle's eye view miles above the sprawling grassy grounds that ran into the edge of the forest. Her thoughts continued to whir like clockwork, keeping sleep at bay.

When she crawled out of bed and into the bathroom, just minutes before her alarm was to go off, her boney reflection caught her attention. Where did a dark-eyed brunette fit in with silvery-haired aristocrats that glared at her through stormy eyes?

She could live in a cold, marble mansion that echoed with her screams amongst hundreds others. Even the idea of being on display on the crook of Malfoy's arm, like a trophy or a bargaining chip for the Wizarding World to forget the sins of his family, was bearable. She could endure any sort of horrors the Malfoys threw at her, and she would with an unwavering smile too, but the only detail in this gruesome future that she could not stomach was tying herself to a man who didn't love her.

Didn't, couldn't, wouldn't - it was all the same in the end. Each possibility came to a grinding halt at the fact that Hermione Granger was not in his heart. He didn't live and breathe for her, didn't smile adoringly at the thought of her, nor was she the first waking thought in his mind. And this grain of truth was the deal breaker for Hermione Granger.

Was Malfoy even capable of loving? She believed he could love, after all he was very much human, but was he capable of loving _her_? She was a mudblood, the epitome of everything he was raised to hate. She had bested him at every turn in school and bled all over his living room rug. She was the know-it-all best friend of his childhood nemesis and who could forget the legendary punch of their third year? How on Earth could she be Draco Malfoy's perfect match?

So as caught up in her rumination as she was, Hermione found herself running out of the portrait door to make it to her first class just seconds before the bell rang. Harry and Ron tried to catch her attention throughout all their morning classes but she had less trivial problems to attend to. She knocked down Goyle's books behind her when they tried to follow her out of transfiguration and she partnered with a flummoxed Neville in charms.

One of the perks of being Head Girl was unlimited access to the restricted section and she planned on taking full advantage of it. Eying all the dark and twisted sort of books, she couldn't help but think how easy it probably had been for Head Boy Tom Riddle to get all that information regarding horcruxes.

Sighing, she grabbed the few books on Veelas and magical beings in general - at least the ones that didn't look like they would curse her for touching them - and took them back to her favourite hidden corner of the library. The shelves hid the sight of her frazzled self curled up on a couch and hunched over the thickest volume in her stack.

All lot of the information she came across was familiar from her research for the Veela essay assigned by Lupin, but now she was taking in the words with fresh eyes. It was an entirely different thing when it was her life on the line.

_The Veela, one of the most powerful magical beings, is an amorous species. Descended from vampires and succubi, the Veela has a voracious appetite for sex. However, the Veela is only attracted to one particular individual and that is their mate. The Veela and its mate are, metaphorically speaking, two halves of the same coin - soulmates. Their magical cores intertwine to become one, fuelling both with_ _twice the power._

She traced her finger over the dark outline of a winged half-human. There was a peculiar sort of beauty to the ethereal being, sending a shiver down her spine.

_Upon Ascension, the Veela's life force begins to dwindle at an alarming rate and this prompts it to find its mate. The instincts of a Veela will guide it to its mate, as they are particularly attuned to their mates' scent and emotional trace. In the event that their significant other declines to bond, the Veela, unable to force themselves upon them, will pine their remaining days away until they finally_ _die_ _of literal heartbreak. Being rejected causes the Veela to burn in sickness as a scorching fever takes ahold of their body. All the nutrients in the blood are directed towards the dying magical core in a fruitless attempt to sustain it and thus the organs and tissues in the body are deprived of oxygen and other nutrients needed to function._

"Ascension?" Hermione wondered out loud, having a faint memory of coming across this word in her previous research but not remembering what it meant. The fates were in her favour, for one of the darker and older Veela books had an entire chapter on it.

_The Ascension is the point at where a Veela reaches maturity and comes into their full Veela heritage. Up until this point, which is usually between the ages of 17 and 25, the Veela remains in their human form with only wandless magic at their disposable. It is not until their transformation, upon which their magical core is strengthened, that they reach the threshold of their magical potential. The transformation can take anywhere from a few hours to a few days, depending on how powerful the Veela is, all while being excruciatingly painful. Other symptoms include vomiting, nausea, delirium, shivers, high fever, and nightmares, all of which is a direct result of the individual's bones and tissues tearing apart to rebuild stronger. Many Veela clans use the Ascension to determine their leader - a longer Ascension indicating the strongest Veela._

She winced, thinking back to Malfoy's screaming when they brought him into the Hospital Wing. His body had begun convulsing as they placed him on the bed and he had to be strapped down so Madam Pomfrey could get a dozen or so potions down his throat to stop the seizures.

_Though some perpetuate it as a myth, Veelas and their mates are indeed soulmates - prove by their magical cores combining, which only happens within perfectly matched, magical beings. Unlike Veela, all of whom are guided to their mate by their soul mates through their instincts, these pairings tend to occur only a handful of times at most in a century for humans. A Veela's mate is their match in power and everything that they would ever desire in a life partner. Most mates tend to be witches and wizards, as the magic in their blood will be passed on to their offspring to sustain them until they come into their own Veela heritage. A Veela's mate will always equal them in magical power and their body will be able to handle the strength of the Veela._

Red bloomed up her neck, her embarrassment at the last few words in that excerpt sending her mind into a tizzy. Sitting in the library of all places and imagining Malfoy's naked, warm body wrapped around hers was incredibly dangerous.

* * *

The first thing Draco noticed when he was wrenched back into consciousness was the sensation of knives dragging down his back. It was as if his skin was tearing apart at the mercy of the sharp metal. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the ghastly walls of the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, but his vision was attacked by white spots of bright light. Clenching his jaw and biting down to keep his screams in, he blinked through tears to harrowingly take in his surroundings. The pristine, sterile design of the hospital wing was a momentous relief, and no longer worried about showing weakness, he let out a piercing scream.

He was sobbing out profanities when Pomfrey came running with her wand drawn. She took a moment to assess his condition before jolting into action, her mind racing frantically with all the medical knowledge she'd gained over the years. All of it summed up to nothing in face of Draco's bizarre situation, especially since his body was now resisting the effects of the pain and numbing potions.

He let out another shriek of agony, this time arching his back until a distinct crack could be heard. It took her two stunning spells to render him unconscious and another _stupefy_ to stop the convulsions. Levitating him to turn him onto his front, a few inches above the bloody sheets, she vanished his shirt and gasped. The wounds from which his wings were protruding had torn open further and the edges were oozing a dark, viscous liquid.

Praying to Merlin that it wasn't already too late, she sent a patronus to the Potions Master's office. This was situation was entirely out of her medical field and as sad as she was to admit it, she would be of no help to the poor blond.

When Draco awoke for the second time that day, it was to a sickeningly sweet smell. Nose wrinkled in disgust, he forced his heavy eyelids open and tried to speak. Sharp, dry coughs wracked through his body instead, the movement making him cry out in pain.

"Hush, Mr. Malfoy, don't speak yet," Pomfrey instructed him softly.

Hands on either side of him grabbed his shoulders and carefully tried to help him sit up. Whimpering at the red hot pain that flooded his body, a sudden smell of dog overwhelmed his senses. He clenched the bedsheets tightly and steeled his quivering body. Tears streamed down his face and his bones throbbed with a weakness he'd only felt before at the hands of the Dark Lord.

"Draco, can you hear me? Open your mouth, Draco."

A low, soothing voice cut through the dull haze in his mind, prompting him to open his wet eyes sluggishly. Lupin was holding a vial up to Draco's lips with one hand and supporting his upper body with the other.

They were never-ending, the strangely coloured potions that were poured down his throat. Nausea overtook his body, trying to purge the liquids, but three pairs of arms held him in place firmly.

It took a few minutes - though it felt like an eternity - for the potions to absorb into his bloodstream and for the pain to simmer into a numbing throb. Without the excruciating pain assaulting his senses, he could finally take in his surroundings and the people crowded around him.

He traced the wet dog smell to Lupin but was surprised to find Bill on his left with his hand on Draco's shoulder. Snape was standing at the foot of his bed with his arms crossed over his chest. Anyone else might've mistaken the curl of his godfather's lip as disdain but Draco knew he was beyond worried. Looking past Snape, Draco was shocked to see the willowy blonde watching him carefully from across the room.

"Fleur?" he blurted out.

She took that as approval to come forward, a small smile gracing her beautiful features. It was when she stopped at Bill's side that Draco realized that she was the source of the sugary smell. It wasn't overwhelming to the point of pungency anymore but the hairs on the back of his neck still stood up.

"What's going on?" Draco demanded and his wings thumped against the stack of pillows behind him with irritation.

"Remus told me about your transformation and when Fleur heard, she insisted on coming to see you right away."

Draco was outraged at this indiscretion but Lupin spoke up before he could voice his anger, "She's a quarter Veela. We don't understand what we're dealing with here but she can help with that."

He looked dubious, but nodded. They had little to no information and even less of an idea where to start.

Fleur gestured for her husband and Lupin to release him, taking Bill's place when they stepped away. To Draco's surprise, she reached out slowly and cupped his cheek. Leaning closer until their noses were just a few inches away, she stared into his eyes.

He wasn't sure what she was looking for or why he wasn't shielding his features with his trademark ice mask, but he held her gaze steadfastly. Looking pleased, she broke away after a minute and remarked, "He has found his mate."

Draco stiffened. "What was that about?"

"It was a test. Ascended Veelas zat have not found their mates would be repulsed by anybody el-ze's touch. But I touched you, Draco, and you did not pull away," she explained. "You have found her."

"Ascended?" Draco repeated.

"Mhm, your transformation. You have Ascended. Pain, fever, nightmares - all symptoms of ze Ascension."

Snape, who'd been listening quietly up until now, looked at Draco inquisitively. "Do you recall the Veelas that were present at the World Cup? Were you affected by them like the others?"

"The Minister's box had protection charms," Draco sniffed.

"Pity." Snape sighed and then turned to Fleur. "Are Veela young - those who haven't Ascended as of yet - immune to other Veela's?"

At her nod, he said, "Interesting."

"Where are you going with this, Severus?" Lupin asked, recognizing the gleam in his voice.

"The possibility that young Draco might have been immune before the Dark Lord's return."

"But that would mean…." Draco trailed off.

"Indeed. We don't know for certain whether the Dark Lord is directly responsible for your condition and so we mustn't leave out the possibility of the Malfoy line containing Veela blood," Snape drawled.

"Just when I think I'm starting to grasp all this," Draco muttered with a scowl.

"You mustn't wallow! A lot of info about Veelas is kept a secret. Very private beings, not trusting of wizards."

"But how do you know all of this if you're only one-fourth Veela?"

"A few of my cousins on my mother's side are full Veelas and I was present for their Ascension," she told him with a soft smile. "Zat is why I came to see you right away. You know nothing, Draco Malfoy. You have no one to guide you. You nearly died in your Ascension without the knowledge zat is passed down to the offspring of Veela. Veelas grow up with knowledge of their heritage and know what to expect. You have been thrown off a cliff but you don't know how to fly."

He had bristled initially when she boldly told him that he knew nothing, but now Draco's heart was sinking to his stomach. Throat thick with fear, he stared at her silently with a forlorn expression.

"Lucky for you, flying is an instinct, not a skill."

She beamed at him and winked, and though he was supposed to be immune, Draco could see her radiance.

"Now," she announced, clapping her hands together and sitting down on the edge of his bed. "Who is the lucky girl?"

Snape let out a noise that could've easily been mistaken for a strangled cat if the look of disgust wasn't evident on his face. Lupin rolled his eyes at his colleague but had a small smile at the corner of his mouth. Draco, on the other hand, stiffened and was now staring down at his hands with frustration written all over his features.

Clearing his throat, Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he admitted reluctantly, "Granger."

Fleur gasped, her hand flying to her mouth and eyes wide. Bill's eyebrows shot up into his hairline but instead of saying anything, he turned to Lupin for confirmation. Lupin's look of resignation said it all and Bill shook his head before snorting.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This ought to be something."

"Zat is so poetic," Fleur cried out happily. "You saved each other's lives and all the fighting was just sexual tension."

Snape burst into a coughing fit, his face turning purple.

Fleur's words sent a pleasant warmth coursing from the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toes. Flashes of creamy skin against black lace, slim legs wrapped around his waist, and bruised pink lips set afire an urge within him. It travelled under his skin like electricity, a craving to taste the most delectable of creatures. His cock hardened at the mere memory of her intoxicating scent and he had to bite down on his lip to hold in a groan.

"Draco!"

"Er, what?" he blinked, the tips of his ears flushing when he realized all four of them were staring at him with amusement.

"I asked, how is your pain now?"

"Up until a minute ago, bearable," he replied, digging his nails into his palms to stop himself from charging out of bed to go hunt down his prey.

"The potions we gave you should've numbed down the pain for at least a couple hours," Lupin said with furrowed brows.

"It's more of a restlessness. Like I'm about to jump out of my skin," Draco explained. "It just hurts, but everywhere and nowhere."

Fleur smiled widely and nodded. "That is perfectly normal."

"Lovely," Draco deadpanned.

She chuckled but then said seriously, "Draco, you will feel the pain and distress until you mate with Hermione. It is your body's way of telling you that you will die if you do not."

"Well, that's that then. Nice knowing you all. Does anyone have a bit of parchment so I can write out my will?" Draco declared, straightening up his posture. He grabbed his wand to transfigure an empty glass into an inkwell and the vase of flowers into quills. Plucking out a horned owl feather from the assortment, he looked around expectantly. "Lupin, I'm leaving all of my belongings to Teddy but I have quite a bit of stuff so it would probably be best for him to just come to the Manor to pick out whatever he wants whenever he likes."

Lupin chuckled, unsurprised by the theatrics. "Draco, you haven't even spoken to Hermione about this yet. You can't make the decision for the both of you. Hermione is just as much involved with this now as you are."

"She's not the one who has to forfeit their life," Draco snapped, his eyes flashing. "Why in the name of Salazar would she say yes? She would essentially be binding herself for the rest of her life to the guy who bullied her for six years! No sane person would do that! And the animalistic mating? There's no way in hell Gryffindor's Golden Girl would agree to _this_."

"Did you exchange your sense of self-preservation for those wings?" Snape scoffed.

With a knowing smile and twinkling eyes, Lupin said, "Don't assume, Draco. She might just surprise you."

"Surprisingly, her Gryffindorish tendencies are very much in your favour. With that insufferable hero complex and silly morals, she won't be able to resist _saving_ you."

Draco knew his godfather was completely right. If there was one thing the Golden Trio loved to do, it was ride around on their high horses looking for some poor sucker to save. They probably got off on it too. He could see it now - she would square her shoulders and look at him with those doe eyes as she agreed. But why did that thought leave him with a sour taste in his mouth?

"Fine, but what do I do until then? Is this pain going to stop? What about these stupid wings? How the fuck do I get rid of them?" Draco ranted, growing more and more anxious from within.

"Language," Lupin chided softly.

"I wish I knew more about your wings," she said apologetically. "I can write to my cousins for more answers."

Draco nodded gratefully.

Fleur looked him over thoughtfully and asked, "Can you feel Hermione's emotions?"

"How did you….Yeah, when she was near me. Is that actually normal?" Draco asked, ignoring the looks of surprise on everyone else's face.

Fleur's face lit up with delight. "Ah, but of course. She will be able to do the same with you after the mating."

Draco coughed awkwardly.

"Veelas use the scent of their mate to find them and you can use this emotional trace to understand her reaction to all of this. Zat way you can convince her to accept you," she continued excitedly. "This gives me an idea to help with the pain for now."

"Mr. Malfoy, time to change your dressings," Madam Pomfrey interrupted suddenly.

Draco hadn't even noticed when she had left. He frowned at the thought of letting her touch the base of his wings again, not knowing why it bothered him so much.

Fleur stood up, taking Bill's hand as she did. "While you are busy with zat, we will get you something for the pain. Remus, we'll walk back to your office. You have class soon, I believe?"

Draco's wings perked up, the prospect of some sort of relief seemed entirely too good to be true.

* * *

The school bell rung, signalling the end of lunch and jolting Hermione out of her stupor. Madam Pince eyed her beadily when she went up to the front desk to sign out all the books. Avoiding looking up at the irate woman, Hermione thanked her anxiously and hurried out to her DADA class.

Most of the class was seated by the time she skidded in through the door, nearly making it to an empty seat beside Parvati before Lupin closed it. Harry and Ron sent her questioning stares, no doubt for her absence at lunch.

"Hermione!" Parvati cried, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Er, hi, Parvati," Hermione said weakly.

"Where you've been? We haven't seen you since Saturday."

"Busy, you know, all these essays and stuff," Hermione said offhandedly over her shoulder as she bent over to grab her parchment, quill, and ink bottle. "Why? Did something happen?"

"Did something happen? Hermione!" she nearly shrieked.

Hermione jumped in her seat and barely avoided being hit in the face with the shiny stone on her classmate's finger.

"Is that?" she gasped, grabbing hold of Parvati's left hand that she was shaking in Hermione's face.

"Yes!"

"But who?" Hermione asked, perplexed. "I didn't realize you were dating someone."

"Of course, I wasn't. Oh, Hermione, it was so romantic!"

"There were like hundreds of candles," Lavender added excitedly from beside Ron. "Like hundreds!"

"And he said I was the light of his life!" Parvati squealed.

"Who?"

"Ernest Macmillan, of course!"

"Since when do you and Ernest like each other like that?"

Parvati just looked confused and stared at her for a couple seconds before saying, "What's not to like?"

"B-but-but!" Hermione sputtered. "You can't just marry someone like that! How do you even know you're compatible? Don't you want to fall in love?"

She didn't get her answer, as Lupin called the class to attention. Hermione turned her outraged expression to the front of the room, muttering under her breath about ridiculous Wizarding World traditions.

"Everyone take out your essays and, yes, I will be deducting five percent of your grade for each day that it is late." Lupin paused, his eyes flickered towards her before he said, "I was thinking that perhaps we can go over vampiric curses today instead. Clear up some confusion as many of you were under the impression that Vampires can put their victims into a deep sleep that can only be broken by true love's kiss."

"Please, sir, we've been waiting for the Veela lesson all week," Lavender cried out as she waved her hand around eagerly.

Sharply enough to make Hermione jump, Parvati squealed, "So romantic!"

All the girls in the class, with the exception of Hermione and a Hufflepuff muggle-born, sighed dreamily.

The irony of studying Veelas this week when her very own Veela was lying upstairs in the hospital wing didn't escape Hermione. She suspected the same for Nott and Zabini, as they kept glancing over at her with amusement written all over their faces. She fixed her stare to the front of the classroom, refusing to look in their direction even as the tips of her ears burned.

"Given that you are in your final year and that this is a NEWT-level course, I expect that all of you are somewhat familiar with Veelas. Or at the very least I hope so, for the sake of your essays," Lupin said sternly but his eyes were kind. "Now, the first thing you must keep in mind is that Veelas are classified as Beings, just like ourselves."

Never had a lesson crawled by slower for Hermione. The entire subject of Veelas was utterly fascinating to her - always had been - but now all she could think about was her situation with Malfoy. It was like she couldn't escape that self-righteous prat, regardless of where she went or what she did. Even Lupin couldn't help but shoot her worried looks, something Harry seemed to have picked up on and was imitating. Ron was as oblivious as ever, thankfully, she thought with a roll of her eyes.

Much to her surprise, the Slytherins were listening fervently, all attentive and revering. It was the same with many of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, whereas Harry, Dean, and Ron looked bored out of their minds instead.

"But, Professor? What is it that determines a Veela's mate?"

Hermione's head jerked up and she stared wide eyed at the Slytherin looking up at Lupin innocently. She narrowed her eyes when he met her gaze with a wink and smirk. She turned away from Nott, crossing her arms over her chest, and huffed.

"Soulmates, an incredible phenomenon. Why do you love who you love? There really isn't an answer for this. It's a magic beyond our understanding, something within the Veelas themselves. What we do know is from the few Veelas who have revealed pieces of information. The mate is the Veela's reason for living, and so intertwined are these souls that they physically cannot live without each other. The magical cores of the two combine, fuelling each other's magic. Your mate is someone who is your perfect match in every possible way and somehow your magic is strong enough to recognize that."

Across the room, Nott and Zabini looked at her pointedly, smirking at the red blooming in her cheeks. Then, to her horror, the latter raised his arm and flashed her a wolfish grin. "How exactly does the mating ritual work?" He asked. "Mi madre, as promiscuous as she was, never felt the need to educate me about doing the dirty. Suppose she thought it was inherent, not learned."

Lupin choked at Zabini's outlandish question, the professor's face turning an awkward shade of red. Yet, despite this, he composed himself and offered a tired - if not, amused - smile. With a quick glance towards Hermione, who was sunk so low in her chair that Parvati and Lavender couldn't help but look at her strangely, Lupin began to answer Blaise's question, knowing completely that he only asked it to make a certain Gryffindor more nervous than she already was.

"Veelas have always been rather secretive about their sex lives, Mr. Zabini. I suppose you'd have to ask one yourself."

"Oh, if I'm ever oh-so-lucky to meet one, I sure will," said Blaise with a coy smile. He glanced at Granger again, who wanted nothing more than to spontaneously combust, and winked.

"But professor," managed Hermione. Her voice was as squeaky as a mouse's, but with a shaky cough, she managed a bit of confidence. "Surely, it's just lust, right? There's no _real love_ or anything of the sort between a Veela and their mate?"

Lupin stared at her for a moment, contemplating his answer. The room had grown quiet, and even the smiles on Theo and Blaise disappeared as soon as they had come. Hermione felt as if everybody knew her secret now, even though she asked a vague question that did not implicate her at all. Her cheeks were still flush with embarrassment, her ears - hidden by her hair - burned almost painfully.

She told herself to breathe, that nobody knew anything - except for the annoying duo sitting near her, and no, she did not mean Harry and Ronald.

"Hermione?" said Lupin, and the red witch brought her attention back to the teacher. He looked at her inquisitively, with an eyebrow arched in concern. "Did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione breathed, glancing at the judgmental Parvati and Lavender. "No, I didn't."

"I said," Lupin began, lines of worry etched on his face now, "that it would be impossible to tell you if Veelas and mates love each other because, well, no Muggle, no witch or wizard, can tell you what love it."

Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach at the lack of a concrete answer. That's what she needed right now - logic and straightforward answers, but there was nothing concrete about this at all!

"But that's only because love is both the most defined and least defined term that's ever existed," added Lupin and Hermione glanced up with skeptical yet hopeful eyes.

When the bell rang signalling the end of class, a red faced Hermione shoved everything into her bag and was out the door before anyone else. Splashing cold water on her face, she tried to block out the last hour of her life. Straightening up, she groaned at the sight of her suspiciously pink face in the bathroom mirror.

Chocolate-coloured tangles hung limply over her shoulder and a few shades lighter irises stared at her pathetically. This was the mate of a Veela? Seriously?

Malfoy being a Veela made sense, at least, with sleek blond hair framing his gorgeous face on a chiseled body. Even Hermione being a Veela's mate was somewhat believable, but to be the mate of Draco Malfoy was laughable. After the years of warped prejudice and bullying, she was the last witch on Earth he would love or even be attracted to.

This was a cruel, stupid joke the universe was playing on them and Hermione was not amused. She didn't fight in a fuckin' war for her freedom just to find herself a prisoner of fate once again.

Growling and muttering under her breath, she dried her face and arms before storming out the door. As she neared the Hospital Wing, she could hear raised voices coming from it.

"-heartless arsehole. Draco Malfoy, don't you ever keep something like this from me again."

Hand on the doorknob, Hermione hesitated.

"I won't, Pans. Though to be fair, I was unconscious for all of it so really it's these two whose balls you should rip off." Despite all the snark, his voice sounded really tired and weaker than before.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned the knob and stepped into the room. Four pairs of eyes snapped in her direction, halting her in her steps.

Hermione's stomach dropped and her throat tightened. She stared at the manicured nails digging into Malfoy's thigh, feeling a sudden thirst for blood. She felt her muscles tighten in anticipation at the urge to rip the dark-haired girl's throat out.

"Alright there, Granger?"

Swallowing hard, she looked away and ignored Nott's question in favour of the stormy grey eyes. She crossed the room in a heartbeat and - SLAP!

The three gasps were followed by chilly silence, but Hermione's attention was on the pink blooming over Draco's pale cheek. His face had snapped to the side by the force of her hit, but he clenched his jaw and rubbed his fingers over it.

"That's for last night," she said coldly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

"I deserve that," he admitted, not meeting her eyes.

"Damn, Granger, you really are his mate," Blaise exclaimed, followed by Theo's, "Can't believe she hit a Malfoy and lived."

"Get out," Hermione snapped, sending them reeling backwards.

"Uh, yeah, we'll come by and check on Draco's corpse - uh, condition, Draco's condition," Blaise said quickly.

"Hold on! Are you crazy?" Parkinson shouted angrily. "And what're you even doing here?"

"I said, get out," Hermione repeated calmly.

"Since when do we take orders from you, Mudbitch?"

Hermione turned to her with an icy glare. Pansy, never one to back off, simply rivaled the Gryffindor with an infamous sneer nearly as arrogant as Malfoy's.

"Don't try me, Parkinson."

"Your hair is scarier than your threat," she scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not a threat," Hermione sneered. She stepped closer to the Slytherin, who as of yet had shown no intentions of backing down. Their noses nearly grazed and Hermione was seriously considering settling their dispute in a violent Muggle fashion.

"Oh no? Then what is it? Are you asking politely? I didn't hear a please," said Pansy with a sarcastic pout. A new wave of anger surged through Hermione, Pansy's mocking tone only flaming her rage further.

"It's an order," Hermione finished, her nails digging into the skin of her palms.

"Ha! Is that supposed to scare -" began Pansy, but was cut off before she could finish. Hermione's restraint snapped and resulted in her pushing the brunette back so forcefully that Nott and Zabini were Pansy's saving grace. They lunged for Parkinson moments before she stumbled onto the ground and with a shriek of disbelief, Pansy whipped out her wand the moment she regained her balance.

"YOU FREAK BITCH!" she squealed, sending a dark jinx towards Hermione. Gryffindor's Princess wasn't prepared, she didn't even have her wand out and was fully expecting the worse-disgusting boils, Animagi curse, or even a legal form of the Cruciatus really. Yet time seemed to slow as she watched the blue sparks shoot towards her chest. Pansy's magic crackled with malice, but it soon fizzled when tall figure came to Hermione's side, holding up a hand and erasing the sparks before they hit her.

Stiff silence encapsulated them.

"Leave," growled Draco, finally cutting through the tension and dropping the hand he raised to block Pansy's spell. "All of you."

Without meeting his surely angry stare, Hermione turned to leave once the other Slytherins made their way to the doors. She knew he didn't mean her, but she just wanted to double check.

"You stay," said Draco, grabbing a hold of her wrist.

Hermione wasted no time in snatching her wrist away once the door slammed shut behind them. She couldn't meet Malfoy's inquisitive eyes, choosing instead to walk over to the windows and pull back the blinds so the sun could filter in. She stood there, arms across her chest and head thrown back, just letting the warmth seep into her skin. Her eyes were closed and her eyebrows knitted together. He wondered what she was thinking about so intensely, but couldn't ask as he found himself transfixed by the curve of her neck. All of his senses were screaming at him to press bruising kisses into her throat and make sure everyone knew who she belonged to. But she wasn't. Not his. Not _yet_.

"Are you really so much of a sadist that you'll drag out this agony until my very last breath?"

She stiffened at his words and said loudly over her shoulder, "I've never wished you dead, Malfoy, nor do I have any intention of inflicting unnecessary pain. You and I both suffered enough to last us a couple of lifetimes."

She heard him snort and then shuffle around on the bed, sucking in a sharp breath and wincing in pain each time he jostled.

Forcing her voice to remain even, she said quietly, "It's not your fault. This is…it's just another one of those things completely out of your hands. Another consequence of surviving when we should've perished."

"In that case, I have some good news for you, Princess," he drawled. "I'll take one for the team. The moment you reject me completely, nature will enforce what should've been."

Pivoting on her heel, she threw him an unimpressed look. "

"I didn't…I never said…we just don't have all the facts we need to make a well-informed decision."

"Not everything runs on logic, Granger. You can't take an ancient bonding ritual and make it sound like it's an appointment with a Healer or something."

"This impacts our entire lives, Malfoy! Do you realize it means more than a century of being stuck together?" she cried out, static crackling in her hair from the frustration. "You're going to spend the rest of our lives practically worshipping me. Me! Hermione bloody Granger! You've hated me since the moment you found out I was a mudblood! Are you actually okay with being forced into thinking you're in love with me?"

Her words echoed around in his mind, banging against his skull when he realized what she'd meant. All the gears that had been whirring, preparing to counter her excuses, came to a grinding halt. He stared at her lithe form, shoulders hunched, eyes sunken into already boney features - just overall exhaustion. Moments like these truly highlighted the disadvantages muggle-borns had in the Wizarding World. He, like most others, had grown up with all of these fascinating possibilities as part of the norm. As incredible as magic was, he didn't have that sparkle of awe in his eyes at every new spell he learnt.

The Veela fascinated everyone, child and adult alike, and it was considered very good luck to run into a Veela. Every child in their world had dreamt about Veelas at least once. The prospect of being with your actual soulmate was a fantasy everyone shared.

But of course, he had to be destined for the girl who didn't grow up with all of this surrounding her. She couldn't possibly comprehend how revered Veelas were in the Magical World, forget understanding what a mating bond actually meant.

"Granger, you've -"

"Mr. Malfoy, were you not supposed to call for me?" Madam Pomfrey cut him off as she came out of her office. Malfoy looked annoyed at her interruption, but he shuffled forward and raised his arms to allow her to unravel his dressings. Hermione had been preoccupied with her jealously and anger up until now and so she gasped at the glistening red that had been staining the pillows and sheets behind him.

"You've soaked through them again," she tutted as she used her wand to clean off the dried blood first.

"When was the last time you changed them?" Hermione asked, stepping away from the window hesitantly.

Malfoy had tilted his head back and shut his eyes, trying to keep the rest of him static as his fingers twitched with her movements.

"Half an hour ago." Pomfrey met Hermione's eyes for a fleeting moment, surprising the younger witch with the worry she was exuding. Hesitantly, Madam Pomfrey added, "He isn't healing fast enough."

Hermione frowned. "I thought they had incredible healing abilities -"

"Healthy, mated Veelas do. His body was already incredibly broken before the transformation and used up most of his magic core to make it through."

Malfoy sighed impatiently and Madam Pomfrey turned the rest of her attention back to him. Hermione's mind was buzzing with thoughts running into each other in a frenzy. Most of her anger had been drawn out into the slap, taking with it shards of jealousy that had been wedged into her insides. Thinking along a scale of logic was where Hermione had always sought her comfort and she did the same now. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but Draco Malfoy needed her.

Swallowing hard, she said quietly, "I read, um, I was reading up on…up on, er, Veelas. Right, um, it said that s-skin to skin contact with the…you know…helps. I can…I don't know…er, I can hold your hand?"

Despite knowing she was right, Hermione could help the tinge of panic at the embarrassment that would follow if her suggestion didn't pan out. Just when she was about to yell out, "April Fools!" and run out to go hide under a rock, his stunned face evened out into indifference and he nodded tersely.

Pulling the chair closer to his side, she took a seat gingerly and reached for his hand. His skin was icy to the touch and she didn't miss the slightest bit of relief that crept into his expression. To his shock, she cupped it to her face and blew warm air into it. Rubbing it intermittently, she repeated the action for a bit and then silently grabbed his other hand as well. Once the initial surprise wore off, he closed his eyes again, the bruises under his eyes giving away his exhaustion.

She kept up her ministrations until Madam Pomfrey came back to check on them. The pair hadn't spoken a word the entire time, each lost in their own contemplation and reluctantly enjoying the tiny sparkles that rushed through them at the brush of their skin.

"Incredible. The bleeding is stopping! You've healed more in the past fifteen minutes than you have in the entire day, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey announced, looking pleased at the results. "A bit more of this and I daresay you'll be able to spend the rest of your recovery in your own bed."

Hearing that, Hermione's eyes widened and gauging for his reaction, she said carefully, "Oh. Okay then. I guess I can stay."

As it turned out, she didn't need his approval to stick around, not since he had knocked out minutes after the matron left. This was starting to become a habit, she noticed. Keeping vigil at Draco Malfoy's bedside, who would've thought?

Not long after, she was jolted out of her stupor by a whimper that pierced through her heart. Sweat beaded across his scrunched up face as his body began to shake. She jumped to her feet, only to quickly reclaim her hold on him when he cried out. Panic welled up inside her and broke over the top in the form of frantic calls for Madam Pomfrey.

"Gr...ang...er."

She froze at the strangled sound of her name and her grip on his hands tightened when she heard it again. A dozen thoughts were racing through her mind in that moment, but the one that stood out felt the most instinctual. The need to ease his pain, an urge that she'd come across a few times before, was the strongest.

Biting her lip, she spared a single glance towards Madam Pomfrey's office before squaring her shoulders and resolutely unbuttoning her shirt. Stepping out of her skirt, she placed her wand over it on the chair and climbed onto the bed. Pushing him an inch, the most she could given his size and injuries, she wrapped her arms around him. She was curled up into his chest with the thrum of his heart against her cheek, given the size of the bed, and she was just glad that Malfoy wasn't conscious enough to see her blush. At least she was wearing one of her newer bras and panties, she noted when she flinched at the touch of his cold skin.

Within seconds, she could feel him relax and his breathing evened out. It wasn't until she'd given him enough of her own body heat that he stopped shivering and she felt he was okay enough for her to close her eyes for a bit. She allowed the familiar scent of sandalwood and jasmine to permeate her senses and lull her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, let's get the Dramione train moving! Please, please comment and let me know what you thought! I love hearing from each and every one of you and it truly motivates me to write. Each comment and message makes me grin like a madwoman.  
> Thank you to all my readers and to my out-of-this-world beta, Luunascope, for kicking my ass when I slacked and for filling in the blanks when I got at a loss for words.  
> You all are so amazing! Thank you so much for being so understanding about school and don't worry, I still have another chapter to give you before the update schedule change.  
> Again, please review and if you enjoyed this, spread the word. Until next time, my loves!


	14. Tides Turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which trouble rises over the horizon and there's a small stirring in everyone's hearts.
> 
> _"It's obvious. His magical core has been volatile for some time now and his soul was agitated - quite symptomatic of a Veela coming of age. Not to mention, he looks just like one. As for his mate, anyone who looked close enough would see that whenever they're near each other, their soul threads reach out to tangle themselves together."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

When she drifted into consciousness, it was to the overwhelming scent of sandalwood and jasmine, along with a hint of something fruity. It was like being enveloped by the softest of hugs, she thought sleepily and shifted herself closer to the source of the warmth. She couldn't remember a time when her bedding had smelt so good…nor had it ever been so firm.

Hermione eyes snapped open and her gasp of surprise got caught in her throat at the intensity with which his gaze seared into her own.

"I never thought I'd be saying this, Granger, but I'm about this close to shagging you six ways to Sunday," he murmured stoically, his voice gravelly from sleep.

Her heart skipped a beat - several beats, in fact - and her eyes flickered down to his lips. They were less than an inch away from each other, their noses nearly grazing.

Her breathing was laboured as she swallowed hard and asked quietly, "How close?"

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he leaned in closer and her own lashes fluttered against her cheek at the barest brush of his lips against hers. He tasted just as good as his scent, was the last thought that crossed her mind before shifting into autopilot. The sensation of his muscles rippling under her hands as she trailed them up his bare chest pleased some primal part of her, while the rest of her focused on his mouth. This was no gentle kiss, not that she wanted it to be, but rather a fight for dominance as their tongues plundered each others' mouths. When she could no longer breathe, he pulled his lips away to trace tiny nips and soothing kisses down her jaw. Pausing at the crook of her neck, he pressed a bruising kiss and smirked when a particularly loud moan escaped her.

His hands continued the journey down the curve of her hips and gripped tightly as she gasped at the attention his mouth was now paying to the top of her breasts. His fingers dug into her hips painfully, shooting hot waves of pleasure down to her core. She pouted when his head pulled up from her chest and he shot her a wicked smile just before his fingers slipped in between her thighs.

"Malfoy!" she cried out breathlessly at the jolt of pleasure that shook her to her bones at his merest touch.

Pleased with her reaction, he stroked her clit and groaned when he felt her already damp panties get even more wet. It took all his self control to not pull the fabric aside and plunge into her. The thought of her hot pussy squeezing his cock tested all of his willpower.

"Dripping around my fingers, Granger. You want this, don't you?" he murmured and swallowed her shaky whimper with his mouth.

His words were like oil to her burning desire for him and she returned his kiss with vigour. Her hand crept down his front to his warm hard cock that had been pressing against her and she smirked at his groan when her tiny hand wrapped around it.

"Mhm, I could say the same for you," she teased, her heart hammering at her sudden boldness.

His eyes darkened with promise and he swooped back in for a fierce kiss.

"What in the name of Merlin - oh!"

For the second time this week, Hermione found herself engulfed in glossy black feathers and it took her a moment to recognize the familiar voice Malfoy was growling at. After a couple attempts at trying to move past the monstrosities blocking her way, she ended up standing on the bed so she could look over the wings.

"Neville?!" she shrieked, nearly falling over in surprise.

"Hermione?" he choked out. His face was a warm Weasley-red and his eyes wide with sheer panic. Hermione could see the fight in him to bolt before the awkwardness of this bizarre situation gave him a heart attack.

"Granger, would it kill you to not flash your naked body at another man while I'm already trying to keep from ripping his throat out?"

Blushing deeply, she complied with a frown and ducked down to cover her front with a pillow.

"What're you doing here, Neville?"

"Yeah, Longbottom, what're you doing sneaking around like a perv - oofh! Watch it, woman."

Ignoring Malfoy's glare as he rubbed at his shoulder, she turned back to Neville, who was actually starting to look a little green in the face.

"I know all this looks kind of weird - well, actually, a lot weird, but there's an explanation for it. Before that, why are you here?"

"Uh, right, um, everyone is looking for you. Dumbledore's called us to his office and we couldn't find you."

Cocking her head in confusion, she questioned, "Why didn't Harry just use the map?"

Neville scratched at his head awkwardly. "It didn't make sense at the time but McGonagall jumped in before he could go grab it and pulled me aside to tell me to check the Infirmary."

"So much for secrecy," Malfoy grumbled.

"We can trust Neville. He won't say anything, right?" she turned her beseeching eyes on him, the warm trust of her gaze a direct opposite of the icy glare Malfoy was shooting him.

"Uh, really, I won't."

"Technically, he can't spill any secrets if he's dead," Malfoy offered lightly.

"Not helping," Hermione snarled, throwing him a dirty look before turning back to her terrified friend. "Please, Neville?"

"Hermione, you do realize? This is Ma-Malfoy," Neville stammered, the tips of his ears turning pink when the blond in question narrowed his eyes.

"Give me two minutes. I'll meet you outside."

"I-I don't know," he said anxiously, teetering on the balls of his feet and wringing his hands before him. "I can't just leave you alone with him!"

"You're a real peach, Longbottom," Draco drawled and then turned his head to glare over at his female companion. "Granger, this doesn't help the situation and so help me if you don't cover those perky tits of yours I'll -"

"Malfoy!"

"Granger!" he retorted, his fangs clicking together as his darkened eyes flashed to show his seriousness. "Do you want to be picking Longbottom's limbs off the floor because that can most definitely be arranged?"

"Aargh! You're such an arse," she groaned, falling back on her heels and throwing her hands up in the air.

Keeping his gaze trained on the terrified-looking Gryffindor before him, Malfoy raised an arm in the direction of the chair his own Gryffindor had folded her clothes on and muttered a spell. When the pile of fabric followed his command and flew over his shoulder to smack the brunette in the forehead, he nodded impressively to himself. Wandless magic had never felt more effortless before.

"You've overstayed your welcome, Longbottom," he sneered. "Get out and wait for Granger where you can't eye her."

He smirked to himself, pleased when the wizard nearly fell over himself to rush out of the room.

Once the door closed behind the Gryffindor, Malfoy groaned. "I can't believe I got cockblocked by Longbottom," he complained.

"Good thing too or we would've ended up rushing this entire predicament."

Malfoy fell silent for a moment, watching her pull up her jeans, and then asked soberly, "About that…would you actually have, you know, gone through with it?"

Hermione's head jerked up to stare at him with disbelief. "Were my intentions not clear enough minutes ago?"

"Uh, I wasn't sure if you were just going along with it or, um, you know, that you were actually into -" he stuttered, sounding the most unsure he ever had in his life. With any other girl he wouldn't have had to doubt her attraction to him, but with Granger all the rules were flipped. He had to second-guess every glance, every touch, from this fiery goddess and it was entirely unknown territory for the Malfoy heir.

She looked torn between amusement and incredulousness. "That was a two-sided moment of passion. It's not like you were scheming me into getting into your pants."

He straightened up at this, his eyes gleaming now. "Oh really? All this time you wanted to get into my pants? I knew it," he said smugly.

Hermione snorted and said dryly, "Of course that's what you would infer from this."

"I mean, why else would a golden girl like you crawl naked into an unsuspecting lad's bed," he continued.

"You make it sound like I do this with every other guy," she said with narrowed eyes, though her tone was more amused than angry.

A low growl reverberated through the room and Malfoy's eyes were tar black as he sneered, "You better not be."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Hermione met his gaze with a defiant one of her own. "Don't you dare tell me what to do, Draco Malfoy. I'm not yours."

"Not yet," he muttered under his breath.

Without giving any indication that she had heard, Hermione turned on her heel and strode out of the Hospital Wing. Neville was leaning against the wall across from the doors and straightened up when she came through.

"Hermione, you know I trust you right?"

"Of course," she said quickly, though her eyebrows were furrowed as she tried to follow his train of thought.

"It's just that, you're a tough witch," he started, sounding unsure himself. "I would bet on you in any fight."

"Thanks?"

"Right, um, but like, not to sound like I'm doubting you, but are you sure?"

"Of what?"

"This," he gestured around them awkwardly. "This guy, Hermione, this is Malfoy. He's, you know, Malfoy!"

"Yes, I'm aware, Neville," she replied carefully.

"Right, well, I don't trust him."

She sighed and gestured for them to start walking to the Headmaster's office.

"I'll tell you the gist of it, but no one else can know. I'm serious. The last thing I need is for Harry and Ron stupidly trying to duel Malfoy in their anger and getting killed."

At his fervent nod, she continued, "Malfoy is a Veela and…and I'm his mate."

"Oh. Shit."

"Yup," she agreed, popping the 'p' and chuckling to herself. "Only I would end up in a situation like this."

For the entirety of their walk, she explained the events of the past two weeks to Neville in hushed tones. To his credit, not once did he lose his temper - like Ron would've - nor did he accuse Malfoy of trying to pull the wool over her eyes - as she would expect Harry to. In fact, she was glad to get the perspective of another pureblood that she could trust and who had grown up with Veelas as common knowledge.

"If Malfoy really is a Veela, which he seems to be considering those wings of his, then this isn't a bad thing at all," he mused quietly and catching sight of her shocked face, he explained. "Being the mate of a Veela is a blessing, Hermione. It really doesn't get any better than that. His very existence revolves around keeping you safe and happy. He'll cherish you and respect you for your whole life. Veelas are incapable of even thinking about cheating on their mates, not that they even want to."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she admitted, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I don't want him to love me just because his Veela nature commands him to. I want to be loved for who I am, not because he's stripped of his free will and compelled to."

Gently grabbing ahold of her elbow, Neville brought her to a stop and turned her to face him. "Hermione, that's not how Veela mating works. Malfoy isn't being forced to do anything and truly this is the luckiest gift the Fates could've given him. Veelas just have the ability to pinpoint who their soulmate is. That's all it really is. His Veela isn't forcing feelings onto him, it's simply ensuring he doesn't make a mistake and lose you. We've all got people we're destined to be with, but most of us will spend our entire lives without ever even meeting them. The endowment of a Veela is that they can use scents and emotional tracing to find their mate. Of course, everything comes with a price and theirs is that they will die if they don't find their mate or get rejected."

Looking flustered, Hermione waved her arms around as she said quickly, "That's the thing that doesn't make sense though. How can soulmates even be real? There's billions of people in the world and -"

"You're thinking of it like Divination," he interrupted with a soft laugh. "How is the Amorentia potion able to distinguish what you're attracted to the most in a person? Magic! Some things just are, Hermione, and you can't find a logical reason for everything. Since you found out you're a witch, have you ever thought to yourself that it can't be and that your magic must be some type of hoax? Of course not. Soulmates are a phenomenon that our world just knows to be true and accepts."

"This is just one of those things I'm going to struggle with simply because I'm a muggleborn, isn't it?" she sighed.

Gazing down at her sympathetically, he said, "If it helps, think of it this way. Why would you deny yourself the chance to be with the person who was designed to, for a lack of better word, be your other half, your partner in crime, your everything? There's a certain amount of risk involved in every relationship and being a Veela's mate just happens to have the slimmest possibility of anything going wrong."

Coming to a stop before the large Gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office, he gave the password and watched the stone figure come to life.

"Why're you suddenly so okay with Malfoy?"

Neville grinned over his shoulder before stepping onto the spiralling staircase behind the Gargoyle. "I figured, the ferret can't be that bad if he's your perfect match."

Her eyes widened in surprise and it took a moment for Hermione to gather her wits. Shaking her head and chuckling, she hurried after him.

Stepping into the office, Hermione made a beeline for her two best friends. They looked just as confused as she felt and it was reassuring just to be by their side.

"What is this?" she whispered.

Ron shrugged and Harry shook his head slightly, his eyes flickering over her shoulder. She turned to meet the Headmaster's sparkling periwinkle gaze, fidgeting under his heavy scrutiny.

"Ms. Granger, so pleased you could join us," Professor McGonagall said with a soft knowing smile.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, taking in all the serious faces around her.

"Official Order business," Dumbledore replied gravely. "Kingsley came by with reports of suspicious activity the Aurors have compiled. Given that the four of you are adults and the frontrunners in the war, we thought it would be prudent that you be informed."

He held out the thick folder sitting before him, gesturing for them to take it. Harry, who was closest, did so and the other two crowded around him. Unlike Ron who was about a head taller than Harry, Hermione had to stand up on her tippy toes to read over his shoulder.

"You want us to do what? Find the people who're - the people who're behind these, uh," Harry said, flipping through it quickly, "wait, Death Eater attacks?"

"Bloody hell!" Ron gasped.

The blood had drained out of Hermione's face and she shivered at the crackle of electricity that shot through her left forearm. Resisting the impulse to grab her now throbbing arm, she took the folder from Harry and skimmed through it frantically. Photographs of the crime scene are what nearly stopped her heart. She never thought she'd be seeing that wretched snake and skull glowing above another home, but here it was in black and white. In that very moment, she hated magic for the ability to animate photographs and had to clutch Ron's arm to steady herself.

"How is this even possible?" she whispered.

"Sir, can we have a moment to go through the rest of this stuff?" Harry asked, his voice hollower than they had heard in months and his face ashen.

"Just when you think the seven years of battling a noseless maniac are over," Ron muttered as the door closed behind McGonagall.

Harry nodded emotionlessly and spread out the contents of the folder across Dumbledore's desk. Ron dropped into one of the seats while Hermione moved the bowl of sweets from the corner of the desk to an empty space on the bookshelf lining the wall.

"What've we got here?" she asked and it was evident by her tone that determination was quickly replacing fear.

"Hang on, this says that the second establishment to be attacked is owned by Archibald Greengrass," Harry pointed out, his brow furrowed, "who just happens to be in Azkaban for his actions as a Death Eater."

"Why would Death Eaters be attacking other Death Eaters?" Ron wondered out loud, looking as baffled as they all felt.

"Revenge?" Neville offered. "They haven't rounded up all the Death Eaters so the ones who got away could be angry at the ones that surrendered or pleaded Imperio."

"Is it possible that Death Eaters aren't responsible for the attacks?" Hermione suggested. "It could be someone mimicking the Death Eaters or a diversion, perhaps? Make the Aurors think they're hunting for Death Eaters while the real perpetrators are otherwise?"

"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron gaped at her, his blue eyes wide as if seeing her for the first time. "Every time I start forgetting how brilliant you are, you hit me with a solid one."

"Well," Hermione shrugged, her cheeks flushing as she tried not to look pleased.

"These three attacks happened in the course of the past week, the first taking place on Saturday night," Neville said, grabbing a spare parchment from the cabinet above the pensive cabinet and scrawling notes onto it. "That was the Corinth Estate, followed by Greengrass the next night, and then an apothecary in Knockturn Alley yesterday morning."

"A timeline," Hermione nodded approvingly. "Great idea, Neville!"

"Why're they coming to us for help, though?" Harry wondered. "We're not trained Aurors or anything of the sort."

"We might as well be, I mean, we did take down Voldemort."

"And yet you can't get more than just a passing grade on your transfiguration papers," Hermione snapped. "How long are you going to milk that for, Ron?"

"Why're you so angry?" he exclaimed.

Hermione opened her mouth to retort before freezing. Remorse flooded her face and she shook her head to clear it. Giving him a rueful smile, she apologized, "I-I don't know what came over me."

Still looking a bit doubtful, Ron nodded and leaned over to place his hand over hers. He smiled shyly and gave it a gentle squeeze, letting go quickly as the tips of his ears reddened.

Harry sighed. "There's too much information here for us to go through at once. At least, not if we want to ensure we don't miss any of the details."

"I could go through it and annotate the bits that stand out," Hermione offered.

"Great! Let us know if -oofh!" Ron began to say but was cut off by Harry smacking the back of his head.

"Do you even have time with Head Girl duties?"

She bit down on her lower lip anxiously, her eyes wide as she mentally combed through her schedule. Between setting up tutoring sessions, organizing prefect rounds, and dealing with this Veela situation, Hermione was spread on thin ice and teetering dangerously.

"We'll split the material between us," Neville cut into her contemplation.

"But Hermione is the one who's good at research."

"We're in our final year, Ron. We should all be good at it by now," Neville pointed out. "Besides, I'm sure she's the one with the most on her plate here."

"Quidditch isn't all fun and games," Ron said quickly.

"No one is making you help out, Ron," Hermione retorted icily. "You can leave if its too much for you to handle."

"That's not -"

"Enough!" Harry barked out, cutting off the redhead. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, looking exhausted despite it being barely noon. "Let's just go to breakfast and look at this later. I think we're all feeling the stress get to us and need some time to cool off."

"Good call," Neville added uncomfortably. "Come on, I'll walk you back, Hermione?"

"Actually, do you mind if we talk?" Ron asked quickly.

"Ron -"

"Please? I'll be quick."

Both Harry and Neville looked unsure leaving her alone with him, but left at Hermione's reassuring nod. More than anything they were worried about Ron's wellbeing, knowing the brunette was quick with her wand and had a temper to boot.

"I'm sorry."

Hermione's head snapped up. "What for?"

"For being an arse."

Having known Ron for seven years now, she knew well enough that the miserable look on his face was akin to guilt.

"You actually admit…" trailing off awkwardly, she wrung her hands together.

"Yeah, I think even Goyle could tell I was being a real prat to you lately."

"Oh. But why, Ron?"

The tips of his ears turned red and he took a step closer to her, looking down at his hands as he spoke, "I think, I just...whenever I see you, I remember the day when you, when you, uh, broke up with me."

"We were never going out," she reminded him, a tinge of exasperation in her voice.

"Exactly! We've never given it a shot. Who knows how good of a thing it can be," he remarked excitedly.

"Er, I highly doubt that's what we're supposed to be getting from all this fighting. If anything, it shows that we can't stand each other's presences for more than a few minutes without biting each other's heads off."

"Every relationship needs some adjustment on both people's parts. You know, cut off the extra, loose bits that get in the way," he shrugged.

Hermione looked appalled. "I don't want an adjustment, Ronald. I want someone who loves me for all of those extra, loose bits. Those bits that are a part of me. Love doesn't mean compromise. Those who love you accept your good and bad parts."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, shaking back her hair and lifting her chin to level him with a sharp glare. Ron barked out a laugh and the sound had a noticeably dark edge to it.

"Tell me, does the guy who gave you that love your bad parts too?" he asked harshly, gesturing down at her.

Hermione gasped and turned to catch sight of her reflection in the pensive cabinet window. The angry red bruise stood out against the flush creeping into the skin of her slender neck. It marred a sizeable amount of surface area, surprising her that no one had noticed it before she moved back her hair.

"Who is he?"

Ron's figure towered over hers in the reflection and she turned in time to find herself inches from his face as he leaned down to meet her wide eyes with a glare of his own. She resisted the urge to step back, reminding herself that regardless of his anger, this was her best friend.

"It's not what you're thinking," were the first words that came to mind and she winced when his usually laughter-filled eyes darkened from the obvious lie.

"How could you, Hermione? Here I am, trying to fix things between us and you're out whoring yourself!"

Hermione arm snapped out between them before she could even think and a white imprint of her hand swelled up against his maroon cheek. He grabbed his face with numb hands and stared down at her in shock.

"H-Hermione, I didn't -" he began to stammer, but she shoved past him quickly.

Gathering her papers, she hurried to the door and paused to throw him a disgusted look over her shoulder.

"Just because you're insensitive and selfish doesn't mean all other men are too."

Oh, I'll show him, she thought viciously. He'll be eating his own words when he sees I can be loved for my brain just as much as my body.

Though her anger was focused on the conceited expression on Ron's face, she couldn't keep out of her thoughts the memory of the warmth that had shot through her body under Malfoy's hungry gaze.

_"Dripping around my fingers, Granger. You want this, don't you?"_

Blood rushing to her cheeks, Hermione hurried along the empty halls, well aware of how heavy her breathing had become at once.

* * *

Theo hummed under his breath as he made his way to the Hospital Wing, throwing around surreptitious glances to make sure no other students heard him. A snake humming cheerfully was blasphemous and Professor Snape would skin him alive to make a new set of dress robes if he knew.

Shuddering at the mental image of the Potions Master draped in the snakeskin designer robes Narcissa Malfoy once wore for one of her charity balls, Theo turned the corner and found himself with a mouthful of blonde hair.

"Oh, my apologies, Miss…," he trailed off when the witch in his arms smiled up at him brilliantly. Taken aback by those large doe-like, blue eyes, he didn't protest when Loony - uh, Luna - Lovegood brushed away invisible lint from his shirt.

"No worries, Theo Nott," she said, patting his chest. "The rhubarb dribbles are awfully excited today. They're attracted to dark hair, you know."

His arms fell limply to his sides as she stepped back.

"Oh, but of course you know. They've all nested in yours."

Silently, he reached up to touch his hair and furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Don't worry. They're said to bring good luck."

Without waiting for him to finally respond, she skipped past him, whistling merrily. He was frozen in place for a moment, unsure of what had just happened.

"Theo Nott!"

He turned on his heels at her voice and jumped back when he found himself mere inches away from the witch. She cocked her head and peered at him curiously, making him squirm in his shoes. Tugging at the collar of his shirt, he coughed quietly and forced himself to get some words - any really, at this point - out.

"That's, uh, that's me," he said awkwardly, all of his aristocratic upbringing fleeing his body in her presence.

"Good," she nodded sagely, "it's always good to be in control of one's own mental faculties and soul."

He stared at her dumbly.

"Would you kindly do me a favour?"

Eyes wide and filled with confusion, he nodded apprehensively.

"Tell Draco Malfoy congratulations on his Ascension and choice of mate. Of course, Hermione's threads have always been intertwined with his."

In his moment of shock, she made to walk away but this time he grabbed her elbow, instantly snapping out of his befuddled daze.

"How did you find out? Have you been spying on us? And who else knows about this?"

Despite his harsh words, she smiled serenely and responded matter-of-factly, "It's obvious. His magical core has been volatile for some time now and his soul was agitated - quite symptomatic of a Veela coming of age. Not to mention, he looks just like one. As for his mate, anyone who looked close enough would see that whenever they're near each other, their soul threads reach out to tangle themselves together."

Brows furrowed in confusion, he released her arm.

"What? What do you mean 'threads'? Do you have glasses to help you see that too or -"

Loony's jingle of a giggle interrupted him and threw him off guard. Or perhaps it was the sudden loud thumping of his heart and the dampness of his palms that threw him for whirl. He watched curiously as she shook her head, her smile small and knowing, while her laugh came to an end.

"Not everything can be seen, Theo Nott," she said, digging into her bag and pulling out some large and colorful glasses. "But if you'd like, I can lend you my Spectrespecs so you can see wrackspurts."

"Wrackspurts?" he murmured, but she had already pushed the strange bifocals into his hand.

"Oh, yes. They fly into your head and make your thoughts go fuzzy. Thinking positive thoughts will make them go away - oh! I must be going, Theo Nott, keep them for as long as you'd like!"

He watched her pale hair swing behind her as she turned at once and skipped away. The Spectrespecs rested in his hands. His pulse began to normalize and the strange knot in his tummy finally began to disperse. Surely, he was so nervous because somebody had found out about Draco's condition. It wasn't because of Luna's presence, no, not at all. That would be an occurrence just as crazy as Luna Lovegood herself.

When he finally ambled in to the Hospital Wing, it was to the surprising sight of his laughing friends. The lazy grin on Draco's face, which had been mostly absent for the past two years, and the vibrant chattering of Blaise was a dead giveaway.

"Are you two sloshed?" he asked in surprise, his mouth agape.

"Theo!" Blaise crowed excitedly. "Come join us, buddy!"

Draco was sitting cross-legged with his wings thumping lightly against the pillows each time he laughed. Wrapped around his neck was a bold red and yellow scarf, the exact one that Blaise and Theo had procured yesterday. The dark Italian was sitting at the foot of the bed, his posture matching Draco's and a marble chessboard between them.

"Have your parents already dropped by?" Theo asked as he dropped into the chair beside them. "I can imagine Lucius ripping out your wings, feather by feather, for wearing those offending colours."

"You worry too much, Nott," Draco declared, leaning over to pat him on the head.

Pulling away with a scowl, Theo muttered, "What is it with you people patting me everywhere?"

"Is that a euphemism for handjobs?" Blaise asked curiously.

"You wish," Theo snorted. "I've got a message for you, Draco."

Draco nodded without looking up, his attention focused on the chessboard. "If it's Granger rejecting me, can you wait until after we finish this round? I'd like to kick this fucker's arse at least once more before I hit the grave."

"Luna -" he coughed abruptly. "Err, Loony Lovegood says congrats on this Veela thing and oh yeah, Granger too."

Draco's head jerked up with a loud snap and he stared at Theo with wide eyes. All the blood had drained out of his already pale face and he seemed to have sobered up instantly.

"Yeah, I know, I was thrown off too. She said the weirdest things - something about soul threads and apparently your magical core has been volatile for some time now."

"Who's this we're talking about again?" Blaise asked, straightening up in interest.

"Lovegood," Draco whispered, a haunted look coming over his features.

"What?"

"Lovegood. Skinny blonde…a year younger," Draco hesitated. "She was in the manor…with Olivander and Thomas."

Blaise groaned and threw his hands up in defeat. "Can we not have just one day of fun? We talk about the Dark Lord, torture, and the painful shit all the time."

Looking unamused, Theo leaned forward to say, "She knew about you being a Veela and what's even crazier is that she also knew that Granger is your mate."

Draco shook his head and snorted, "I learned by the second week of her imprisonment that it's just better to go with the flow when it comes to Lovegood."

"Still, I think you should talk to her. It's quite bizarre but she said that your, uh, soul threads are connected to Granger's."

"What in the name of Salazar are soul threads?" Blaise remarked loudly.

Theo shrugged, settling back in his chair and playing with something hideously colorful in his hands. "Hell if I know."

"Speaking of, how is your lovely Gryffindor doing?"

Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise's question and leaned back into the pillows. Letting his head fall back, he groaned, "She's gonna be the death of me."

"Literally?"

"Wait, seriously?"

He turned his attention back on them at their panicked tones and shook his head. "Every single time we're about to get somewhere with this Veela thing, we get interrupted. I got cockblocked by Longbottom today. Longbottom! Can you believe that?"

"So does that means she intends on accepting the mating?" Theo questioned.

"Who would've thought that prim and proper witch would be such a sexy vi-" Blaise broke off into an awkward cough when Draco shot him a dark look.

"I haven't got the foggiest - she's so, ugh, hot and cold. One second she's just as horny as I am and then the next she's slapping me."

"Ooh, foreplay," Blaise smirked.

"You need to talk to her, Draco," Theo said, his facial expression matching the worry in his voice. "Doesn't she understand that you're on a time limit here?"

Draco shot him a glare. "I'm not going to push her into this."

"Wow, that's awfully moralistic of you," Blaise remarked, leaning forward to peer closely at him. "Are you sure you're not feverish?"

Sighing exasperatedly, Draco grumbled, "I don't want her accepting our mating bond out of pity. I'd rather continue to die a slow and painful death."

"Ah, there's that Malfoy pride," Blaise nodded approvingly. "So when are they letting you out of here? You look just about peachy to me."

"Pomfrey wants to do one final check-up before discharging me."

"Good thing too. She knows you have a tendency of running off before recovering completely," Pansy drawled as she walked into the room. She assessed his appearance carefully and nodded with a pleased smile resting upon the bow of her lips. "You're looking much more alive. I'm glad."

Draco allowed her to envelope him into a quick but tight hug, holding his breath to keep out the bitter scent of a female who wasn't his mate. Fleur had mentioned the scents of all other fertile women would irritate his senses until he had mated.

"Didn't think I'd see you around anytime soon."

She threw him a dirty look and smack his shoulder, ignoring his wince as she said, "One know-it-all mudblood isn't going to keep me from my best friend."

Draco couldn't hold back the growl that escaped him at the derogatory word but didn't apologize for the brief look of fear that crossed her face. She knew better than to insult a Veela's mate.

"So it's that serious then?"

"Yes, Pans," he sighed and held her gaze steadfastly.

"Fine," she caved after a tense moment and let her arms drop to her sides with a deep breath of air. "If fucking Granger is what it takes to keep you alive, then I can put up with her presence in your life."

"Bloody hell, Narcissa!"

"Father!"

Draco stared, aghast, at his parents standing in the open doorway of the Hospital Wing. He had been too focused on holding his breath to keep from smelling Pansy to sense their arrival, despite how strong his mother's flowery scent was. His father was unsteady on his feet and his pallor had sunken in even further shock.

"Get ahold of yourself, Lucius," Narcissa hissed, pushing him upright when he began to lean against her.

"My father and his ancestors are rolling in their graves," Lucius muttered.

"Abraxas was an overbearing bastard," she remarked offhandedly, ignoring her husband's affronted expression. Turning to her son, she wrapped her slender arms around him and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. "Is it true, my dragon?"

"Yes, Mother."

"How long have you known?"

"Since I woke up from the Ascension," he admitted, tightening his grip on his mother. The familiar maternal aura was a comfort he seldom felt and when he did, he grasped at however much he could get. "Are you angry?"

Narcissa pulled back to gently cradle his face in her hands and pressed an affectionate kiss to his nose. "Of course not, Draco. What matters to me is that you're alive and happy regardless of whether your mate is a pureblood or Muggleborn."

Draco let his forehead rest on her shoulder, letting the weight of his worries fall with it and inhaling the sweet scent clinging to the sleek fabric of her robes. He was pleased to note that her scent didn't irritate his olfactory system.

"Is she aware of your situation?"

Draco pulled away to fall back into his mountain of pillows and nodded reluctantly. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around and rested his chin atop them.

"I was hoping I had misjudged," Narcissa pursed her lips, looking over to meet her husband's gaze worriedly.

"How can you tell?" Pansy asked curiously.

She gestured to the twin structures of black feathers towering over the blond's hunched over figure.

"There's a collection of Veela books in the Manor's library. I'll have Anya bring them over. They were quite informative, for example, a Veela's wings generally come out to protect their mate or when they feel threatened." Narcissa explained. "Given that your mate is, well, unmated, your Veela is anxious about losing her to another male."

"Knew it!" Blaise exclaimed, smacking his fist against his palm. "This possessive bastard can't handle the Weasel sniffing around Granger."

Draco growled, his wings straightening up to their full height behind him.

"How nauseating," Lucius drawled, curling his lip in disgust. "A Malfoy threatened by a Weasley."

"I'm not threatened," Draco sneered, his nostrils flaring. "That fool doesn't know to keep his hands to himself. Even Granger is about this close to losing her temper at him."

"Precisely. Malfoy men don't allow their women to get in harm's way. We protect them and fight for them." Seeing his son open his mouth to argue, Lucius added, "Regardless of how powerful our witches may be. Your mother is a fierce opponent, no doubt, and she can fight her own battles. However, that doesn't mean I'll sit back and watch her risk her neck. Her honour is my honour."

"Malfoys protect their own," Draco whispered.

Lucius nodded, his eyes glinting with approval.

"Careful, Father. It's beginning to sound an awful lot like you approve of her."

"It is no longer about approval, Draco. The tides have turned," Lucius said solemnly, "and we must turn with them."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay but the past 2 days have been insane with term assignments and just big life changes. Here it is, the chapter I promised I would give you soon. Thank you so much to my beta, Luunascope, who made sure I wouldn't turn this into a Ron bashing fic and kept me in line.  
> 
> 
> I absolutely died reading all these reviews, it was amazing! Thank you so much for all the feedback and know that I want to hear any and all critical criticism, which only helps me make this fic even better. Follow my tumblr, kissyourdemons, to keep updated on TWDM and to indulge in Dramione content (and dank memes).
> 
> I haven't gotten a chance to reply to all the comments all you wonderful people sent yet but I've read each and every one of them. As a reader, personally, I've wondered if fic writers are actually seeing reviews I've left on their fics and so I'm telling you right now, I read EVERY SINGLE REVIEW and honestly, I fangirl each time. Some of the reviews I've gotten for this pic have actually left me in tears and speechless. This has been a rough week for me and I've been trying to fight off an oncoming depressive episode and believe me when I say that I couldn't have done it without you, all of my readers. You've made me smile and laugh and just feel this warmth in my chest that my own mind hardly lets me have. This isn't a pity plea or call for attention, but just an honest, grateful, straight from the heart, thank you to all of my readers. You've all become like family to me and I send your way all the hugs and kisses my heart can give!


	15. Shipwreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Theo and Blaise are perverts, Draco decides to take control of his own life, and Hermione has a gameplan.
> 
>   _One of her knitted scarves around his neck and a maroon and gold hat on his head, Nott was standing before her floor-length mirror. Turning to look across the room, he took off a pair of sunglasses and wondered loudly, "Why the fuck would she need these in Britain?"_
> 
> _Zabini, who had been poking his head into her wardrobe, held up a blue lacy bra and grinned._
> 
> _"Who'd have thought swotty Granger would wear something so sexy?" he exclaimed delightfully, wiggling his eyebrows at the other boy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

_Knock, knock._

"Come in,"

"What're you doing here?"

"Checking up on you," Lucius replied, his gaze staggering on the pile of Muggle novels sitting on the kitchen table. He decided against commenting on it, and instead approached his son. "Have you been lying there all day?"

"I finished all the work I missed," Draco said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "Don't worry, I won't let this get me behind in classes."

"Mhm, that wasn't what I was referring to."

Draco gave him a look of disbelief before turning back to the textbook he was reading, trying his hardest to block out his father. It was impossible, he found, as the words on the page swam around. Even then, he was hyper-aware of the muffled echoes of Dragonhide boots against the carpet flooring.

"I didn't say anything earlier, not wanting to bring attention to the embarrassing matter before your friends, however why in the name of Salazar are you wearing that atrocious excuse of a scarf? Have you finally lost your bloody mind?"

Draco looked down at the lumpy scarf he had honestly forgotten about and blood rushed to his face as his heart dropped into his stomach.

"Oh, right, this thing," Draco said lamely.

Lucius' lips thinned and his eyes glinted dangerously.

"Fleur Delacour - or Weasley I think - found a way to ease the pain by surrounding me with Granger's scent. She had Blaise and Theo steal some clothes that reek of her. So it's either this or sticking my face into that nest on top of Granger's head."

"How positively primitive."

"You'll have to deal with it."

"Since you've chosen to tie yourself to a mudblood, it's a good thing you chose the most adequate one."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Lucius's words and remarked offhandedly, "As I've said before, you would do well to reconsider your choice of wording. We saved the Malfoy name from being dragged in the dirty by mere threads; the last thing we need is an ill-meaning half-blood reporter to catch wind and write out an emotional piece on the Death Eater family that didn't reform as believed."

His upper lip curled as he retorted, "I'm rather surprised you didn't make a move to attack me for insulting your mate. Good, your subconscious knows well enough what she is."

"Don't try me. I'm not exactly a controlled Veela yet."

"Don't you talk to me like that, boy," Lucius sneered. "I'm still your Father and the head of the household."

Draco refrained from snorting and saying, "Some head of house you turned out to be," by instead busying himself with counting the number of vowels on the page. He had just breached triple-digits when his father spoke again.

"What in the name of Salazar is taking her so long to consent to the mating? You are a Malfoy, after all. She won't find a wizard of a better stock."

Draco's stomach clenched painfully and he flipped the page hard enough to cause a small tear at the top.

"Is there any specific reason you're in the Heads' Dorm or will you be leaving?" he asked sharply.

"Draco," Lucius warned lowly.

The Slytherin Prince let out a deep breath he didn't even realize he had been holding and said, "I'm the git that called her and her friends names for years. I have a tattoo on my arm that represents the very legion of Dark Wizards who fought to exterminate her kind. She's the poster girl for the Light side and the sole reason for Potter making it alive to the battle to defeat the Dark Lord. 'Mudblood' was carved into her arm on the floor of our drawing room by your sadistic sister-in-law. Ask me again why she wouldn't want to give up her future to save the son of a man who tried to kill her in the Department of Mysteries."

"I swear you don't get your theatrics from my side of the family," Lucius remarked after a pause. "Must be a Black thing."

Draco silently disagreed, picturing his father brandishing his cane as he walked into a room with his robes billowing behind him.

"Earlier yesterday, I received a fire-call from the director of your company. Camus Gates, was it? He's been trying to get in touch with you. Dumbledore isn't allowing entry to the school due to precarious incidents occurring across the country."

Draco looked up at his father with knitted brows. "What incidents?"

"Thrice the Dark Mark has been found above pureblood establishments with a total death count of four. The Ministry is trying to keep this under wraps, hence why it hasn't been published in the Prophet or any other news outlets as of yet."

Lucius paused to take the seat across from him and Draco bit back a smile at the thought that that armchair in particular was a favourite of Granger's.

"Do you know who's doing this?" Draco asked carefully.

Lucius hesitated, glancing around the spacious room furtively. Catching his movements, Draco added, "It's well warded. Granger added enchantments of her own design to mine so it's safe to say this room is spy-proof."

Lucius nodded approvingly, catching Draco, who was still getting used to these new approving looks on his father's features, off guard.

"Archibald's factory was the site of the second attack, followed by an Apothecary founded by Travolta Pucey in Knockturn Alley. He sold it to a Hufflepuff just before the first war. The first attack found the Corinth's dead in their sun room along with their ten year old granddaughter."

"But these are all…" Draco trailed off, worry creasing his forehead.

"Precisely. You need to keep on your guard, Draco. I'm not too worried considering your - ah - training and newfound abilities, but our postwar society is fragile."

"Of course," Draco nodded shortly, thinking about McGonagall's request after the welcoming feast. "What did Camus want? He could've just owled."

"Given the sensitive nature of these documents, I think not." Lucius pulled out his wand to give it a swish and the stack of papers in question appeared on the table before him. Draco was quick to grab them and flip through.

"You never mentioned before you would be acquiring land."

"Phase one was just establishing a stable base for the company. With our owl orders thriving more than ever, we're ready to increase production to cater to larger businesses like hotels and restaurants. That and a second store in Wizarding Paris will require a larger production line and labour."

"Impressive. I can see funding your pet project was a worthwhile endeavor. Of course, every Malfoy begins his career with a start-up to add to the empire."

Draco nodded, the tips of his ears burning as he tried to squash the warmth that spread through him at Lucius' words of approval.

"Though I expect more from you. I would've thought you'd have Ms. Granger under you by now. You must be losing your touch if you can't seduce one little know-it-all," Lucius remarked lightly.

"Might I remind you that she hates me," the younger blond drawled with a roll of his eyes.

"Then find something she wants. You ought to have our lawyer draw up the marriage documents and the consequent division of assets."

Draco looked up at him in surprise. "You mean to say…?"

"Of course. She'll be the Malfoy bride and we Malfoys pride ourselves on upholding traditions. Part of that means the younger Lady Malfoy will gain several titles and your late Grandmother's estate in Greece. Surely the girl can infer the sort of power this gives her. She sounds like an ambitious one, from your consistent complaints of her over the years, though I worry of her priorities."

"Er, right, well she is. Or at least when she's not trying to free house elves," he snorted, remembering the number of evenings he'd spotted her curled up in her regular corner of the library, studying for classes with a pair of knitting needles floating beside her. Word had gone around that her entire House was disgruntled with her scaring off their elves. Following her presence at the Yule Ball, Draco had spent many months in their fourth year watching the brunette witch closely. "She won't be swayed by money, Father. She's entirely too Gryffindor to allow herself to be bought."

"Then find what will sway her. All of these years of watching the enemy should have gotten you more than enough ammunition."

Draco nodded automatically, having already known these strategies like the back of his hand. Malfoys were nothing if not masters of plotting.

Lucius got to his feet while buttoning up his coat with one hand. Before turning to leave the room, he paused to look at the morose Head Boy. Looking like he'd rather be anywhere but there, Lucius said, "I'm proud of you, son. You're an incredibly powerful wizard and you've matured into a fine young man."

Draco didn't know how to respond, as was evident by his silence, but he swallowed hard and nodded shortly.

"Thank you, Father," he said politely when nothing else came to him. "How - how is Mother doing?"

Lucius breathed in deeply before answering. "She's trying her best. The first couple days were hard and even now she has half a mind to transfer you to Beauxbatons."

Panic flooded Draco's veins and his wings were immediately at full mast. A growl fell from his lips but he was distracted right after by his nails curling into the cushion of the sofa underneath him. There was a painful throbbing in his chest and he found himself struggling to breath, as if his lungs had been crudely ripped out.

"Draco, calm down. You're not going anywhere. You're not transferring to Beauxbatons, so rest assured, you'll be at Ms. Granger's beck and call."

Draco took a harsh drag of air, feeling the oxygen surge back into his cells. The red haze that had taken over his senses in panic vanished, leaving behind traces of the fear of losing what wasn't even his. At least, not officially. He needed the whole world to know she belonged to him and he to her. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, and legally - in every way possible - Draco wanted her tied to him. This raw _want_ was strong enough to leave him unable to lift his arms, instead letting himself fall back into the sofa.

"Hate this," he gritted out without opening his eyes. "I hate this. So bloody much! I hate not having control over my own body."

"Draco -"

"Do you know what I'm feeling right now?" he interrupted, turning to look at his father with haunted eyes. "I meant every word I said in the Hospital Wing. The Dark Lord fucked me up to a point where all of this -" he gestured wildly to himself, "This is who I've become. Who I am. And I can't escape it."

"Malfoys don't run from their problems, son," Lucius remarked carefully, having become accustomed to these furious bouts of angst and guilt that plagued Draco.

 _I'm a real shite Malfoy then_ , Draco thought sourly.

"I recommend writing to your mother for advice on wooing the girl. You also ought to know - and mind you, don't bite my head off - that Narcissa happened to plan out a charity function to introduce you to every eligible heiress. This was before she knew you had found your mate. Now, unfortunately, invitations have been sent out and the sheer length of the guest list means none can be retracted. Before you lash out at your mother, know that planning out this party kept her occupied and unusually happy. This was a good thing for her."

For all his faults and mistakes, Lucius's one redeeming quality was his love for his wife. Draco had grown up idolizing the relationship between his parents, secretly wishing for the same for himself. In the past few years, Draco had all but given up on that notion. The idea that someone would love him despite all of his sins was laughable. Feeling another pang of gloom that wasn't his own, Draco felt the weight of his wrongdoings on his shoulders become painful. Laughable, indeed.

* * *

Lucius' visit had left a sour taste in his mouth, and so Draco found himself holed up in his bedroom and ignoring the incessant knocking of the Head Girl. As much as Draco wanted to put up a silencing spell to block her out, his war instincts prickled at the very thought of not hearing a possible enemy enter his territory. Even though he knew that Granger could take care of herself, Draco wasn't about to leave her to be a sitting target.

After his father left, Anya popped in to drop off a stack of books on Veelas from the library in the Manor. Draco held up the book at the top of the pile, eyeing it warily as he deliberated whether he wanted to know of what other horrors to look forward to. Finally deciding it was better to know thy enemy, he flipped it open.

Out in the common room, Hermione was wearing a hole into the carpet with her pacing. A scowl rested on her lips and her Advanced Charms essay sat on the coffee table long forgotten. Her entire day had gone wrong, starting with the awful news of the Dark Mark attacks, followed by the tiff with Ron. After repeatedly dodging questions about the absent Head Boy all day, Hermione was more than happy to return to her dorm. She was hoping now that Malfoy was out of the hospital they could sit down and maturely discuss their situation. Of course, the prat would pick now of all times to put up the theatrics and ignore her in favour of brooding in his room.

"Hermione?" A muffled yell came from the portrait hole and Hermione pushed it open to find Ginny beaming at her.

"Want to study together?" she offered, holding up the small pile of textbooks and parchment that was tucked under her arm.

"Fine," Hermione said resignedly, throwing a baleful glance over her shoulder. "But let's go to the library instead."

"Is it true Malfoy got cursed and his balls are shrivelling up?"

"Ginny!" she gasped, stopping at stare at her friend in shock. "Where on Earth did you get that from?"

"I overheard Ron telling Seamus and Dean."

Hermione sighed. To say she was unsurprised would be an understatement. Of course Ron would do something as immature and petty as to spread embarrassing rumours about Draco in his absence.

"Totally untrue," she announced. "He's just got a nasty cold. Hence why we're going to the library. His icky sick germs are all over the common room."

"Malfoy sick…that thought gives me goosebumps," Ginny admitted. At Hermione's confused frown, she explained, "After seeing him bleed out on the couch in Grimmauld Place, it's just that the fact that he's not this untouchable git is unsettling. He struts around like he owns the place and now he's bedridden by a simple cold? After surviving You-Know-Who? That's just crazy."

Hermione nodded numbly, feeling her words swimming around her mind like acid trickling through the chambers of her brain. Even the smallest reminder of how close Malfoy had come to dying back over the summer was horrifying for her. It made her heart leap in her chest and her breath hitch with fear.

"Anyway, forget Malfoy. Did you hear that Lavender is planning on asking my brother out to Hogsmeade?"

"No surprise there."

"Aren't you angry?"

"What? Why?" Hermione stopped in her tracks, looking baffled.

"Er, because he's your crush?"

"Where the hell did you get that from?"

"Sixth year!"

"That's ages ago. It ended the moment he chose Lavender over me. Besides, I can't forget how he left while we were on our horcrux hunt. He did it out of jealousy in a moment of panic."

"Yeah, seriously not cool."

"Exactly. I really value loyalty. I'm not willing to compromise on that."

"Well that changes things. Hm, did I tell you about my date with this Ravenclaw in my year?"

"No, but do tell."

"It's this Friday and he's taking me to Madam Rosmerta's."

"Want me to do your makeup? I spent all summer learning and I think I'm actually pretty good."

"That's amazing. Why am I only hearing of this now?"

"It's just one of those things I'm doing now that we don't need to worry about a bloodthirsty dark wizard and focus on living our lives."

"I love that attitude. It'll be so fun like girls bonding while you help me get ready for my date…."

* * *

When both hands on his watch came to rest on twelve, Draco tapped the top of his head with the tip of his wand. A cool sensation trickled down his spine, like water being poured over his skin, and he turned to the mirror with bated breath.

"Fuck yes," he hissed under his breath.

He'd been worried the disillusionment spell wouldn't work on the feathery monstrosities attached to his shoulder blades but the fates were in his favour. Oh sweet Salazar, the lengths he was going to for a textbook.

Thankfully, Granger had given up on pouncing on him the moment he stepped out into the common room. Draco was determined to make up for his shite grades in sixth year when he had stopped attending lessons just so he could work on the vanishing cabinet. There was a specific textbook he needed for his Transfiguration essay and waiting for Blaise to fetch it for him in the morning meant he couldn't have it completed by tonight. If he wasn't Slytherin to the bone, he probably would've been sorted into Ravenclaw.

Being a seasoned Slytherin also meant he knew how to sneak through the castle without being discovered. In fact, he could remember a memorable moment in second year where his godfather found him lurking out of the dungeons late at night and gave him detention simply for getting caught.

Quietly closing the heavy door behind him, Draco slipped into the library and stopped in his tracks an aisle away from his destination. A pair of fifth year Ravenclaws were hunched over an open textbook, the light from their oil lamp creating large flickering shadows on the walls.

"Shh! You're going to alert Filch," the one reading the book said.

"Not if you hurry up. I thought I heard something," the one holding up a wand with a lit tip said.

"I refuse to lose marks just because you set my essay on fire."

Draco bit back a snort and settled for rolling his eyes. Of course the only people he'd run into in the middle of the night were nerds.

"Stop being such a Hermione Granger."

Draco remained in his frozen state but his mind was whirring with panic. He had to have seriously pissed off some powerful deity in his past life to deserve this.

"I'm not that much of a nerd," the first boy retorted as he put the book back up on the shelf and followed his friend out of the library.

Draco was motionless in place for a very long time, his body taut with an impeccable amount of self-restraint. Every cell in his body was screaming for him to hunt down those boys and rip their throats out. To watch their blood stain the stone floors of this castle and his tainted soul.

His feet were carrying him out of the library and through the wayward halls of the castle before he had even made up his mind. His heightened eyesight allowed him to see in the dark and the cold that emanated from the stone walls at this hour didn't bother him anymore. The portraits that were awake called out asking who was rustling by at this hour. Stealth was the last thing on his mind as he raced down to the dungeons, uncaring if he woke the entire castle.

He was most likely the only person that could get away with showing up at the door of Severus Snape's personal chambers and knocking frantically. The wood gave way to reveal the sleep-ridden face of the Potions' Master, fury immediately replacing the annoyance in his features.

"Who's there?" he demanded, his experienced eyes picking up on the subtle shimmer of the disillusionment spell.

"I can't stay here," Draco said and his voice cracked from barely suppressed emotions.

"Draco?"

"I need to leave right now or I swear to Merlin I will lose my mind."

Snape stepped back to let him in, casting a careful glance at the dark classroom his office loomed above before shutting the door. He turned to find that the blonde had removed the disillusionment spell and stood in the middle of the room.

"What happened? Are you alright? Did Ms. Granger -"

"No," Draco interrupted sharply and visibly trembled as he tried to piece the words together. "I'd like to recuperate in the Manor instead. The Head dorms are...suffocating."

"Draco, what on Earth has gotten into you at this hour?"

The older man's gaze was scrutinizing as he tried to figure out what could have happened to get him to this unstable state. He was noticeably struggling with containing his Veela, as was evident by the pitch black irises and the claws that were digging into his palms. Blood dripped from his clenched fists and the air around him crackled with electricity.

"I need to leave," the blond insisted stubbornly.

"Have you gone mad? Being so far from your mate will kill you."

"Then so be it," he snapped. Throwing his arms in the air, he paced back and forth anxiously, his magic so volatile that the fireplace behind him had flared to life with purple flames. "It's my life, my choice."

"You need to calm down and think clearly, Draco."

"I'd rather die alone now than spend a lifetime with her."

Stopping abruptly, his godson looked at him with wide eyes that were wild with desperation.

"I've had every choice stripped from me," he whispered. "Don't take this too."

* * *

_Achoo!_

"Bless you. Damn, Hermione, maybe you should finally go see Pomfrey," Harry exclaimed, looking up from his essay with concern.

She waved him off, and though her quill was racing across the parchment, her mind was elsewhere. Malfoy had been avoiding her for three days now. She hadn't seen hair nor hide of him since he had been released from the Hospital Wing. The first day she had been annoyed, the second angry. Now though, she couldn't help but worry about the infuriating Head Boy.

The pair were gathered in the library, Harry having been guilted into doing his homework by his worry for Hermione's quickly deteriorating health. What had started off with purplish eye bags and a sallow complexion had now evolved into vomiting most of what she ate and what he suspected was a vicious cold. Still, the brunette refused to see the matron or even rest her clearly exhausted body.

Shrill laughter erupted from the table beside them. Ron kept casting furtive glances in their direction, while the blonde pressed into his side shot her smug looks. Hermione couldn't care less about his latest conquest, but she wished she could _Silencio_ the bint's constant giggling.

"Ms. Brown, if you can't respect the rules then I will have to ask you to leave," Madame Pince hissed, her eyes flashing as she told the Gryffindor to keep it down once more.

"Ron's an idiot, but he'll come around," Harry said with an apologetic smile.

"I could care less about Ron's shitty behaviour. I have so many other non-trivial matters to attend to. Once I finish this rough draft for the tutoring sessions I'll be holding, I still have that Transfiguration essay and an extra credit assignment for Flitwick. Now if only Malfoy -" she cut off abruptly with a shake of her head.

"If only Malfoy what?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it, Harry. Hey, you never told me how Quidditch tryouts went."

Ignoring her attempt at changing the subject, he put down his own quill and leaned forward to eye her speculatively.

"Hermione, what's going on between you and Malfoy? Blimey, not a question I thought I'd ever ask."

Chuckling softly but not looking up from her work, she said, "Nothing is going on between Malfoy and I. Don't be silly."

"But-"

"Oh no, I just remembered that I forgot the list of fifth year spellwork McGonagall gave me in my room." Throwing everything into her bag hazardously - a move completely unlike her - and jumping up, she called out over her shoulder, "I'll see you at dinner, Harry."

Leaving him looking dumbfounded, she rushed out of the library. Lost in her thoughts, her feet carried her along the familiar path down to the dungeons, leaving her to argue with herself. Snape wouldn't be happy if she showed up at his office asking questions about Malfoy, but her concern was mounting and her fears growing increasingly far-fetched.

Stepping into her common room, Hermione's wand was in her hand instantly at the muffled thuds coming from upstairs. Quietly but quickly, she crept up the stairs and paused on the landing. She could pick out two distinct voices coming from her bedroom. Casting a nonverbal spell to see through the door, she prepared to curse whoever was in there but stopped at the sight before her.

One of her knitted scarves around his neck and a maroon and gold hat on his head, Nott was standing before her floor-length mirror. Turning to look across the room, he took off a pair of sunglasses and wondered loudly, "Why the fuck would she need these in Britain?"

Zabini, who had been poking his head into her wardrobe, held up a blue lacy bra and grinned.

"Who'd have thought swotty Granger would wear something so sexy?" he exclaimed delightfully, wiggling his eyebrows at the other boy.

Throwing her door open so hard that it slammed against the wall, she yelled, "What is going on here?"

"Oh shit."

"Oh shit is right, Nott. Give me one good reason I shouldn't hex your arses to kingdom come."

"Well, you see, the thing is..." Zabini began to say but cut off at her glare.

"Put that down," she snarled at him when he began to hide her bra behind his back.

"It's not what you think," Nott said hastily.

"What I think is that the two of you are perverts with a death wish," she said hotly, arching an eyebrow at them dangerously. "How did you get past my wards anyways?"

Zabini snorted at that and even Nott looked amused.

"I grew up with a Death Eater father. I learned the darkest spells before I learned to walk," Nott explained and then added, "But nice attempt."

"Fine," she said with a roll of her eyes before breaking out into a coughing fit. When she could finally breathe, Hermione looked disgruntled as she said, "Now explain why you felt the need to break into my room."

Instead of speaking, the two Slytherins exchanged looks and she could've sworn they looked guilty.

"The truth. Now," she said more firmly.

"Blaise, she should know."

"Know what?" Hermione asked quickly, feeling a seed of dread plant itself into her chest.

The Italian sighed and said in the most serious tone she had ever heard him use, "It's for Draco. Fleur Delacour was the one who came up with a way to lessen his pain when you aren't nearby. Your scent soothes his Veela side and so we're just borrowing a few of your clothes that smelled the strongest in hopes of slowing it down."

"Slowing down what?" she asked, not sure if she even wanted to hear the answer.

With a look akin to defeat, Zabini said cautiously, "Granger, didn't you know? Draco is dying."

"Right, he'll die if I reject the bond."

"No, no," Nott said quickly, shaking his head. "He's dying without your acceptance of the bond. His magical core isn't strong enough to heal all of his injuries and the Ascension wiped out most of his energy."

"B-but," Hermione began to stutter but Zabini cut her off impatiently.

"The stubborn idiot went home to the Manor, knowing that being so far from you would kill him."

Her hand flying up to cover her mouth, Hermione gasped and felt tears spring to her eyes. A cold sweat had washed over her and paranoia was creeping along her skin. So many emotions bombarded her at once, but she didn't know what to feel. Painfully afraid he would die. Furious that he could do something so drastic on his own whim. Ashamed that her Veela preferred death over a life alongside her. Red hot anger that Malfoy, of all people, had managed to make her embarrassed about not being good enough for him.

"NO! No! No, no, no…why would…no, he didn't tell me," she whispered as she took a couple steps forward to fall back onto her bed. Sitting on the edge with her head in her hands, she cursed every star that hung in the sky.

"H-how long has he been gone?" she sniffled.

"The night of his release from the Hospital Wing," Zabini replied hesitantly.

"How could Dumbledore let him leave? He should've refused."

"He's of age, legally an adult in his own right. Dumbledore has no authority in keeping him here and you know how stubborn Draco can be when he gets in one of his darker moods," Nott reasoned.

"And he didn't think I of all people deserved to know?"

Their silence was all the answer she needed.

"Am I really so awful that he'd rather die?" she muttered, her voice cracking with the effort to hold in her sobs.

"It's not that, Granger," Zabini said, looking uncomfortable in the presence of a woman shedding tears. "Fuck, he's going to kill me for telling you this but if that's what it takes to save his bloody arse, then so be it. It's not what you're thinking. You'll have to ask him yourself because his reasons are a lot more complicated."

Mumbling about returning the scarf and hat later, Nott led Zabini out of the room, leaving her to sit shell-shocked. Not for the first time this week, Hermione found herself feeling like she was marooned on a shipwreck. There was the inevitable sense of doom in the backdrop to the sheer fear because she simply didn't know what to do. She was completely lost and stumbling around in the dark.

Pride goaded her to not seek him out and let him come to his senses on his deathbed. Being a Gryffindor also meant she couldn't hide with her tail between her legs. A sense of yearning that she could feel crawling under her skin like a never-ending itch pushed her to go to him. The fear that had been caught in her throat ever since she left him behind in the hospital. Her very instincts were screaming to protect the wizard who was her only companion in Malfoy Manor. The man who tried to protect her with his life and understood firsthand the torture Bellatrix put her through.

"But he doesn't want you," she reminded herself as she got to her feet and wiped her eyes. "He'll never love you the way you want."

Trudging to the bathroom, she found herself staring at her haunting reflection with exhausted eyes. Her pallor now rivalled a Malfoy and her cheekbones were more defined than ever from vomiting every meal for the past two days. The love bite Draco had given her days ago glared angrily from the side of her neck, a reminder that sent a shiver down to her pussy each time she caught sight of it.

" _Dripping around my fingers, Granger. You want this, don't you?"_

With bated breath, she raised a hand to trace the hickey, leaning over into the mirror. The purplish-blue marring her skin didn't disgust her like it should've, instead it left her with a hungry ache for more.

"How dare he," she glared at the lovebite. "How can he deny how badly he wants me? How badly we want each other!"

Stepping back and straightening up, she eyed her reflection and was surprised to note how pretty the bruise looked. It suited her features, a stark reminder of _him_. Or rather, a reminder to the world that _she_ was _his'_.

"You're a coward, Draco Malfoy," she announced to the empty bathroom. "Luckily for us, I happen to be a Gryffindor."

She hurried to change out of her school uniform and into the only appropriate outfit she had for the occasion. Sharp, cat eyeliner complimented the simple black dress and so did the strappy black heels she'd bought for all the funerals they'd had to attend in the past few months.

There was a very good chance that she would run into either Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy and she wanted to look strong when that happened. It was clear that appearances meant a lot to them and she didn't dare embarrass herself in front of people who already thought her to be inferior. That was part of the reason she dressed to look like one of those icy pureblood princesses - like a brunette Daphne Greengrass, but better.

Staring at her appearance with a steel expression, she nodded approvingly as she placed a thin set of pearls around her neck. The crowning touch was the deep wine red lipstick that stained her lips and she smirked at the imagery he would get from seeing it - Hermione on her knees before him with her pretty red mouth servicing his cock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient, my loves! Life has been hectic with exams and then a vacay to Panama in the midst of them. Nonetheless, I have so much coming your way for TWDM that you don't need to worry about me abandoning it (tbh, my amazingly talented beta **luunascope** would murder me if I did)!
> 
> As you can tell, the next chapter is the one we've all been waiting for. Alongside the mating, you will finally find out the backstory of what happened to lead to their stay in the Malfoy dungeons and how they ended up at Headquarters of the Order. Hopefully it will be worth the wait!
> 
> Keep in mind that Hermione isn't suddenly in love with Draco or anything of the such. Her reaction at the end seems sudden but its the culmination of their tumultuous journey to get to this very point. There's a lot of pent up frustration - sexual and otherwise - fuelling her actions.
> 
> Find me on tumblr **kissyourdemons** to keep up with updates on my fics and the mind-blowing and heartwarming creative content you guys make for TWDM!
> 
> As always, please leave me your thoughts in the comments and I'm curious to see if anyone picked up on what's going on with Hermione. At the risk of sounding cliche, your comments are like a drug, leaving me flying high with all of your kind and funny words. I actually screenshot them and look back at them whenever I'm feeling down. That's how much your opinions matter. I know that sometimes readers feel like their comment is just one of many others or not creative enough, but TWDM wouldn't be what it is without every single one of you.
> 
> So thank you so much and until next time, my loves!


	16. Burnout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione takes matters into her own hands and Draco finally claims what is rightfully his.
> 
> _“You’re mine, Hermione Granger, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm what belongs to me.”_
> 
> _The silence echoed for a beat until she hissed, “Then prove it.”_
> 
> _Merlin, forgive me, was his final fleeting thought before he closed the distance between them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It's with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

_Doing the right thing sucks_ , Draco thought sourly. The skies were empty of any deities that might’ve looked upon him favourably. 

Even more so, “Dying sucks,” he muttered as a violent shiver rippled through him. 

The Malfoy heir was curled up under two blankets, sitting in the chair by the fireplace in his bedroom. He found that reading a book that was shaking along with his chattering teeth was nearly impossible. Bloody aggravating, it was.

His bones ached as his fingers clenched around the maroon blanket, gripping onto it like a life preserver. Even the once majestic wings on his back were wilting in face of the raging fever that stampeded through his blood. Black feathers were scattered across the dark room, their usual sheen absent. The aftermath of several temper tantrums glimmered against the obsidian floor, shards of a vase stained with his precious blood because he couldn’t be bothered to clean up what was once a royal heirloom.

The Chief Healer that had been in to see him had declared him a _Burnout_. Narcissa had promptly burst into tears and had to be escorted out of the room with a pained-looking Lucius. That left Draco to stare at their backs with desolation, pleading with his eyes for them to come back. He didn’t want to die alone.

* * *

The withering glare Snape gave her when he opened the door to see her nervous face would’ve sent her running on a regular day, but that wasn’t the case now. Stealing herself for his harsh temperament, she gave him an apologetic smile and asked to speak in the privacy of his suite.

“It’s about you-know-who. Not like You-Know-Who Voldemort, but a certain you-know-who blond,” she added quickly when he merely arched an eyebrow at her request.

“I see,” he said and gestured for her to come inside. As she made her way to his couch, he let out a low sigh, wondering if this was going to become a regular occurrence. “What can I do for you at this hour, Ms. Granger?”

“I need you to take me to Draco, sir. It’s urgent.”

“I can’t imagine what would necessitate such a request from you, Ms. Granger.”

“You know why!”

“What are your intentions with my godson?”

“Sir, he needs me. My presence, even more so my touch, it heals him faster.”

“You would like me to take you Malfoy Manor? Ms. Granger, do you not remember how close to death you were even days after your escape? You’ve been dubbed brightest witch of your age and yet you’re exhibiting an alarming amount of sheer stupidity.”

“Sheer stupidity is choosing to die rather than be with your mate, but that didn’t stop him, did it?”

Snape let out a deep breath and muttering furiously under his breath, made his way to the fireplace. He grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and called over his shoulder, “Well? Are you coming or not?”

She closed her gaping mouth and rushed to step in beside him before he threw down the powder with a loud, “Malfoy Manor.”

* * *

“Anya, I-I told you-y-you to st-stay away,” he grumbled out through gritted teeth before breaking out into another coughing fit.

Surprisingly, the elf didn’t pop into the room apologizing for defying his order. As grateful as Draco was for the sudden warmth that had settled around the room and flooded into his bones, he didn’t want any of the false hope that came with a semblance of comfort. 

“Er, it’s not…um, it’s me.”

His neck snapped up at a speed he hadn’t possessed in weeks and he stared at the witch wringing her hands nervously. Of course. Why was he not surprised?

“That explains it,” he sighed, the fleeting irritation leaving him tired more than anything.

“Explains what?”

Fuck. That slight crease she got between her eyebrows when working through a difficult problem made a reappearance and he scratched at his chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart beneath his fingers. He winced at the ache in his bones from the smallest movement.

“What are you doing here, Granger? _How_ are you even here?”

The memory of their last time together in the Manor was evident in the tightness of her shoulders and the edge of panic in his eyes as he clenched his fists even tighter to keep from reaching for her. His instincts were screaming for him to fold her into his arms and protect her from it all.

“Snape brought me.”

“Of course he did,” Draco scowled. “Why are you even here? I know I’m sexy, Granger, but I never took you for one of my groupies, just wanting to sneak in so they can steal my underwear - or worse.”

Anger lit up her face at his words and she narrowed those ocher eyes at him. She was magnificent in her fury.

“Right. That. Do you know what the hell I found today? Two snakes rifling through my goddamn knickers! Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to see Zabini playing with my bra?!”

The growl that ripped through Draco shook all the furniture and he was on his feet in an instance. Granger stepped back instinctively, her eyes wide as saucers as she took in the Malfoy heir at his full height and those lethal black wings towering up behind him.

He caught her movement right away and though his features iced over, he couldn’t mask the hurt in his voice. “I wouldn’t…I’d never hurt…,” he trailed off and turned away from her.

The silver, metal dragon that Anya brought back from Hogwarts was curled up on the headboard behind his bed. Draco’s fierce roar awoke it from its slumber and it watched the scene unfold with beady, obsidian eyes. Draco simply raised his elbow slightly and the miniature beast flew over to perch on his forearm. It ignored Granger’s presence entirely and preened under the attention it’s master was giving it.

“Hm, so that’s why you’re here then,” he said without meeting her gaze.

“Yes - wait, no. What?”

At another time, he would’ve found her confusion amusing, but now it just grated on his nerves.

“It’s true. I asked those two to sneak into your room to retrieve some personal items. Granted, I told those fuckers to bring a shirt or scarf.”

“Speaking of, I can’t find my scarf anywhere,” she remarked softly, gesturing to his person.

Sighing and nodding at the dragon to fly back to its post, he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his green cotton shirt to reveal the red and gold bound around his ribcage.

“Ah,” she nodded to herself.

Biting down on her lower lip and eyeing the scarf with an odd expression, she hesitantly took a few steps closer. His eyes watched her outstretched arm cautiously and when her fingers were less than an inch from chest, his hand snapped up to wrap around her wrist. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, but his attention was on her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breathing. Biting the inside of his cheek, he locked his muscles to keep from pulling her into him and ripping that tight dress off her. She looked like absolute sin. Was that even legal?

Internally cursing himself for his next move, he pushed her back and let go of her as he stepped away. Though Draco suspected all the distance in the world wouldn’t be enough to lessen his desire for her. 

“Anything else, your Highness?” he drawled with a roll of his quicksilver eyes.

“Actually,” she cleared her throat and raised her chin to meet his stare. Crossing her arms across her chest, she straightened her spine to hide her quivering, but hesitation was evident. From the way she swallowed hard and rushed to get out the words before she lost her nerve. “Yes. How could you?”

Draco screwed up his face in a confused mix of disbelief and outrage. “How could I what? What did I do now?”

“You selfish, narcissistic, stupid bastard!” she growled, her pitch rising with each word. “How dare you leave Hogwarts knowing full well that you would die? Have you lost your mind?”

His features darkening and his wings twitching in agitation, he snapped, “That’s my decision to make. It’s my life. Mine! So I decide what happens with it!”

“Aargh!” she cried in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Besides, I fail to see how it’s any of your concern,” he sniffed.

Her voice dropping dangerously low, she snarled, “Has it ever occurred to you that for some baffling reason I do care if you die?”

Draco’s heart pounded painfully against his ribcage and blood rushed in his ears at her declaration. No matter how much he told himself that her words weren’t serious, instead casually tossed out in a fit of rage, he couldn’t help the surge of adrenaline shooting through his veins.

“Well you shouldn’t,” he managed to get out from his dry mouth.

“That’s not an option anymore!” she yelled, the energy around her head crackling. Stepping closer, she jabbed her finger into his chest with every word, “And - it's - all - your - fault. You with your arrogant smirk and dark sarcasm. That stupid swagger of yours. Calling me Mudblood Princess at every turn. And worst of all, saving me! You should’ve never saved my life if you planned on killing me with your pride-induced suicide!”

Another ear-splitting roar tore through him but this time she didn’t even flinch. His wings churned the air behind him, blowing both of their hairs around wildly, but neither even noticed. Draco’s irises resembled shiny coal and the tips of his fangs peeked out as he spoke.

“Never again, understand? Never again will you mention such a thing. I’ll tear apart, limb by limb, anyone who dares lay a single finger on you. And I’ll do so with the utmost pleasure.”

“You can’t protect me if you’re dead -” she began to retort, but he silenced her taunt with a snarl.

“You’re mine, Hermione Granger, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm what belongs to me.”

The silence echoed for a beat until she hissed, “Then prove it.”

_Merlin, forgive me_ , was his final fleeting thought before he closed the distance between them.

In hindsight, she should’ve realized that wearing her favourite dress to entice a Veela was probably not such a great idea. However, she didn’t have even a second to spare for the tragic demise of the black fabric, not when her complete attention was captured by Draco’s lips. His hand tangled into her mane of curls, holding her head to his. His other hand was wrapped around her waist, pulling her body up against his as close as he could. The heat emanating from her skin burned his but in the most pleasurable of ways.

Granger let go of his shoulders to tear open his shirt with a sharp jerk, muttering, “I’ll fix that later,” when the buttons clattered to the floor loudly.

He took advantage of her distraction as she focused on getting him naked to suck the underside of her jaw. The blood pooling at the surface of her skin made his mouth water and his fangs ached with desire.

Draco urged himself to be patient and let go of her for the few seconds it took to untie the scarf from around his naked torso and let it join the remains of his shirt and her dress on the floor. Her arms wrapped back around his neck as she reattached her mouth to his and moaned at the heat of his hands running rampantly over her curves, eager to feel every inch of her. Her own tiny hands trailed down his chest to cup the stiff bulge pressing into her stomach.

“I - I can’t go slow,” he grabbed her wrist and groaned when a painful shiver went down his spine. “I need you…waited too fucking long.”

“Next time,” she mumbled against his lips, tugging at the waistband of his pants. 

Draco froze for half a second and couldn’t keep from smirking gleefully. Hands coming down to grip her arse, he picked her up with renewed vigour. She didn’t stop the assault on his mouth until her threw her onto the bed. Eagle spread with her knees pulled up, she peeked up at him with wide doe eyes filled with uncertainty but no fear. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he took his pants off and felt another sharp sting along the length of his back. The sheer amount of _want_ he felt for this woman was torturous and she continuously plagued him with her intoxicating scent. The glowing Persephone to his dark Hades. She represented everything that was good in their world and he had served under the crusader who sought to destroy her. And now she laid bare before him, a magnificent feast just for him. 

“You have no idea how appetizing you look, Princess,” he said huskily, drinking her in from head to toe.

“Take a bite?” she suggested, tilting her head to the side slightly and biting down on her bottom lip. _Sweet Salazar, did the wicked witch look ever so innocent._

“It’s not nice to tease, sweetheart,” he warned, his eyes glittering like black obsidian.  

“Who’s teasing?”

Draco shook his head as he climbed onto the bed and loomed over her with his magnificent wings spread out behind him. Once again, he was reminded of how tiny she was compared to his 6’3” frame.

Granger wrapped her arms around his neck and craned her head to catch his mouth with hers. She’d had a taste of him and it wasn’t enough. The dull ache of lust that had been present under her skin all week bloomed into sheer desire.

“I’ve always wanted to shut your insolent mouth,” Draco smirked as he kissed the edge of her lips. “And now I know just how.”

She huffed and let go of his shoulder to slap him. Before her hand could make contact with his cheek, his fingers wrapped around her wrist and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her palm. 

Her mouth fell open at the intimate action and he took advantage of her surprise to capture her parted lips with his. He nipped her lower lip in admonishment and flicked his tongue across the bead of blood pooling over the tiny wound, keeping their gazes locked the entire time. Leaning away, she sucked in a sharp breath and Draco’s eyes snapped down to the perfect ‘O’ her luscious lips made.

“Dirty blood,” she whispered.

“No dirtier than the filthy things I’m going to do to you.”

His eyes gleamed as he lowered his mouth to her chest, tongue swirling over one peak and rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. He kept up his ministrations, switching between the creamy mounds and smirking at her moans when he tugged sharply. 

“These _ample_ twin beauties…gave every guy in our year blue balls when you unbuttoned the top of your shirt in Potions. Your hair wild from the heat and sweat trickling down your collarbone.” Letting go with an audible ‘pop,’ he raised his head to remark smugly, “From now on, its going to be my cum that coats these beautiful tits, Granger.”

“Hermione,” she muttered weakly, unsure if she ought to be outraged or turned on.

“One day, Hermione,” he said, stressing her name with a small smile, and leaned down to kiss her middle. “Your womb will carry my son, the Malfoy heir.”

She hadn’t even recovered from her heavy blush when he moved further down until her legs were over his shoulders. 

“Malfoy, what’re you -!” she cried out at the heat of his breath hitting her lower lips. 

He lapped at the wetness clinging to the insides of her thighs before diving straight to the source. As much as he wanted to take his time eating her out, Draco was a man on a mission and so he regretfully pulled away.

His fingers, wet with her arousal, brushed against her puckered hole and he watched her face carefully. She jerked slightly at the foreign sensation and let out a hiss. 

“One day, I’ll take you here,” he declared. “I plan on making you mine in every way possible.”

His hands slid up her calves as he straightened up and brought his pelvis to rest against hers. A whimper escaped her lips and tingles ran through her limbs as he rubbed the thick head of his cock against her folds. He steeled himself against the pain that seared through his spine every second that she spent unmarked and focused instead on the heat emanating from her body. 

Leaning over to bring his lips to her ear, he whispered right before he pushed into her, “You may be a mudblood, but you’re my mudblood.”

His eyes rolled back into his head and his legs nearly gave out. Evidence of the fact that her body had to stretch to accommodate his size, she had a vice grip around his cock, and Draco couldn’t help but think that her body was made perfectly just for him. She had her head thrown back in a harmonious mix of pain and pleasure, her bottom lip between her teeth as she felt him split her in half. Keeping his eyes trained on her face, Draco slowly drew his hips back. 

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped as she felt every inch of his thick cock pulling out of her.

“Uh uh, sweetheart, the only name you’ll be screaming is mine,” he tutted and rammed back into her. 

He watched her breasts bounce from the force of his thrusts with a lustful gaze and swooped down eagerly to take a second taste. He drank her in like an oasis for a parched wizard. As much as Draco loved her fire, he wanted her at his mercy.

Nails dug into her hips and one hand glided up her side until it came to rest at her throat. Her pulse was unbridled under his skin but Hermione didn’t protest this dominating gesture. Eyes clenched shut, she released the bedsheet she’d been fisting to grab onto his shoulders to brace herself for the force with which he hammered into her. He tightened his fingers around her throat until her eyes flew open with, not fear, but lust. Draco mentally noted to explore this further later and reclaimed her swollen lips.

His pitch black eyes matched his wings as he hungrily watched her writhe beneath him. Her creamy flesh was pliant under his unrelenting grip and coarse movements. Their volatile past was imprinted onto their souls and showed in the dance their bodies. Impatient hands guided their focus and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the large room. 

Her chest rose as she arched her back and white spots began to cloud the backs of her eyelids. She clenched around him as waves of bliss crashed through her body all the way down to her curling toes.

She milked his cock in the throes of euphoria and Draco felt the pressure in his chest tighten along with his balls. Twin pinches in his gums signalled that his fangs had elongated and they ached with anticipation. His cheeks were flushed and there was a feral glint in his obsidian eyes. He traced along her collarbone with soft kisses and plunging as far into her depths as he could, Draco sank his fangs into the curve of her neck.

A live wire of pleasure surged through her body, shorting out all of her circuits and leaving her reeling from the sheer force of _belonging_ that swept over her. Hot pain spread out from where his fangs had pierced her skin and her body thrummed in ecstasy. His skin like hot silk against her own, she couldn’t tell where they began and where they ended. As breathless as she was from the second orgasm sweeping through her, she was even more so by the adrenaline that chased after her orgasm.

His body quaked and quivered from the sheer force of pleasure that came from filling his mate with his seed. Her body was pressed up against him as his bite potentiated the sensitivity that followed her first orgasm. Hermione’s eyes were closed and lips parted for her breathless moans as she rode out the painfully sweet release flooding her bloodstream.

Draco flicked his tongue over the wound to seal it. He pressed his lips against hers and she returned the kiss with vigour. Her skin was flushed and her eyes hooded with exhaustion. Not wanting to pull out of her yet, he held her tightly against him as he adjusted them under the covers. He was well aware that the primal part of him was smug at the triumph that was filling his mate with his seed, but he couldn’t be bothered to break away from basking in the afterglow.

“Could -” Hermione broke off into a yawn and rested her head on his chest.

“Could be an heiress instead,” she mumbled as she dozed off, her voice reverberating through his chest.

Draco chuckled and reluctantly pulled away for a moment to reach for his wand and clean them up. He kissed her hair before drifting into unconsciousness with a smile resting on his lips.

* * *

_Hermione had seen Draco Malfoy angry. She had even seen him miserable. She had especially seen him smug. There was even the occasional glance across the Great Hall to catch him grinning playfully at his friends. Never before now had she seen him so frustrated. Cheeks splotched red with ire, nerves frayed, and a desperate gleam in his eyes._

_“What the fuck, Granger?! You weren’t supposed to get caught!” he swore, angrily pulling on his hair as he paced back and forth. “You were never supposed to get caught! Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. We’re screwed. We’re all screwed.”_

_Hermione stared at him silently and then jumped when he suddenly pivoted and slammed his fist into the wall. She stared with wide eyes at the stone that had cracked where he struck. He didn’t seem to notice the pain in his hand or the blood that began to pool at the surface of his sickly pale skin._

_He stopped his furious muttering mid-sentence and turned to her with a piercing glare, seething, “Where the fuck is Potter and why isn’t he with you?”_

_Her gaze flickered to his left forearm and she knew he’d caught her trail of thought when he stiffened. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, rubbing his face with his hands as he breathed out._

_“Granger, the last thing I’m going to do is rat out where the only guy who can defeat that son of a bitch is,” he said flatly._

_“We’re - we got separated and it was an accident. He didn’t mean to break the taboo. There were snatchers coming at us from every side and the boys, they managed to apparate away and I nearly did too but Greyback caught my ankle,” she explained quietly, watching his brows furrow as he took her words in._

_Disbelief written all over his face, he exclaimed, “Don’t you have some sort of contingency plan? In case you get separated?”_

_“Er, no?” she said with a wince._

_“Potter and Weasley are imbeciles, but I didn’t expect for your weak, Muggle breeding to catch up to you. So much for being the brains behind the Golden Trio,” he sneered._

_“At least we’re trying defeat You-Know-Who! What have you been doing up here in your cozy palace?” she snapped, her own temper flaring._

_Given how sick he looked, she never expected him to lunge forward and reach for her throat. His icy grip was firm and pinned her to the wall behind her. She tried not to wince at the sharp pain of the gravelly stone against her back, but his lip curled up into a wicked smirk at her discomfort. He bent down until their noses were nearly touching and held her gaze steadfast as he spoke coldly, “Don’t you dare, you filthy bitch. Don’t you dare presume you know anything about me. I’m not one of your slobbering, Gryffindor lapdogs nor am I one of the professors whose arses you kiss. Don’t push me, darling, because I_ will _push back.”_

_One second those steel eyes were boring into her skull and then suddenly the face before her morphed. The world flipped around as she found herself to be lying flat on the all-too-familiar blood stained carpet. The face above her was that of the haughty dark witch that had broken her once before and then again every night afterwards._

_“Tell me where your precious Chosen One is before I start carving you inside out,” Bellatrix snarled, grabbing her hair and yanking her up to the tips of her toes._

_Fear clutched at her heart painfully tight and she could feel every letter of the scar searing into her bones._

_“Mudblood whore!”_

_Hermione flinched against the force of the vitriol she was spewing and found herself being pulled backwards by an unseen force. Her arms flailed up as she lost her balance and screams ripping through her chest as she fell through the sky._

“Shhh…it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Granger.” 

It felt like knives were stabbing into the back of her throat and her lungs throbbed as she screamed bloody murder. A warm body held her closely, wrapped around her and cooing reassurances in her ear. Large hands made gentle strokes along the length of her back, the warmth of them like a balm to her singed nerves.

“You’ll be okay, Princess. I promise.”

She let sleep pull her back under to the soothing husky voice that filled her with glowing hot coals of trust in the pit of her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, I'm alive! So so sorry, my loves, for the ridiculously long wait but life does get in the way. I've been spending a while just focusing on my health and my muse has suffered in the meantime.
> 
> As always, thank you to my beautiful beta, **@bbzelda** (previously known as **@luunacope** )! She's done a wonderful job is making sure you guys got the best version of this chapter possible.
> 
> However, here it is! A little short but this is where I wanted to end it. What did you think of the long-awaited mating scene? Did it live up to your expectations? Please do leave me your thoughts in the comments (aka fuel for the muse :P). Each and every comment from my beloved readers makes me entire day and I look back at them when I'm feeling depressed. If you enjoyed this fic, do spread the word and follow me on tumblr, **@kissyourdemons** , for updates and TWDM-related content. Lots of love, see ya!


	17. Out, damned spot! out, I say!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco says, "fuck it!" and decides to just roll with it.
> 
> _“Well I’m trying to seduce you and you are trying to make serious talk instead,” he said with a roll of his eyes._
> 
> _“Right… that. Why are you trying to - er, seduce me?”_
> 
> _“The real question here is why aren’t you trying to seduce me?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It’s with a reluctant and heavy heart that I must admit that Harry Potter does not belong to me.

Faint rays of sunlight kissed the lines of Draco’s face as his fingers danced along the spine of the brunette curled up into him. Her breathing had finally evened out after the nightmare that had taken her sleep hostage, allowing him to revel in the warmth of her body and the softness of her skin. While his other hand was resting on her hip, his face had taken shelter in her silky tangle of curls.

He inhaled deeply, her intoxicating scent filling his lungs like the salty ocean mist just before a brewing storm. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe again without the sensation of an anchor resting atop his chest. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be alive, truly alive, and without the sense of impending doom hanging over his head. The emotions swelling up within him were foreign and yet felt so  _ right _ . Exhaling heavily into her hair, a sliver of pleasure took root in his core as his own scent began to dilute hers.

“What on earth are you doing?”

He froze, so immersed in his actions that he’d missed out on her heart rate picking up and the sharp spike of her emotions going haywire. Happiness, fear, and confusion all rolled into one. He wasn’t surprised when he pulled back to see her eyes clenched tightly shut. No doubt, waking up in Malfoy Manor in the arms of a man she’d despised for most of her life was a terrifying experience. It hurt to feel her fear wash over him but his concern overrode it all.  _ She came first. _

Draco’s brows knitted together and he frowned. She came first? Where did that even come from? What sort of spell had this woman put him under?

“Malfoy?”

Shiny ocher eyes stared at him with worry and so he forced his expression to even out. “Don’t you think we’re a tad bit too intimate to be calling each other by our surnames?” he suggested quietly, before resuming his ministrations.

“ _ Malfoy _ , what are you doing?” she repeated, ignoring his words, but her rosy cheeks and racing heart was answer enough for him.

“Marking you,” he replied simply, tracing his nose down the curve of her shoulders.

“Mark - wait, what?”

Her balled fists pushed against his chest and he considered ignoring it for a moment before letting out a sigh and drawing his head back to meet her outraged gaze.

“I know you’re fond of interrupting professors in class, but kindly quit it, Princess.”

“I will not!” she growled.

“You shall,” he said firmly, matching her defiant expression with his own. “You’re interrupting an ancient ritual.”

“Ancient ritual, my arse.” She snorted with a tiny shake of her head. “You’re freaking me out.”

“And you’re pissing me off, darling.”

“Okay, okay… pause. Time out. We need to talk.”

Draco’s head fell back onto the pillow with an audible thump and he let out a loud groan. Trust him to end up with the most trying witch ever.

She scowled and awkwardly moved her arm around to punch him in the shoulder, all the while muttering, “Don’t be an arse.” The fact that he didn’t cry out in pain and just blinked showed that he had healed immensely. Did this mean that he was no longer dying?

“We have our entire lives to talk,” he complained, but still pushed himself up onto his elbows. He shifted them around so that he was sitting up against the headboard, ignoring her indignant squawk when he turned her to face him and planted her arse onto his lap. Gritting his teeth, he ignored how all of her squirming was rubbing up against his rapidly hardening cock and raised his hand to summon a shirt. 

He couldn’t help but smirk as she gasped at his nonverbal, wandless magic and loved that she was too awed to protest when he handed it to her. Draco decided he deserved a reward for being uncharacteristically patient as he waited for her to button up his white shirt and swooped in for a mind-numbing kiss the moment she looked up.

Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders as all thoughts left her brain and she gave into his coaxing tongue. When he finally pulled away for air, she crossed her arms over her chest and tried to scowl. It was incredibly difficult with the memory of his mouth still tingling on her lips.

“Can you not?” she hissed.

He gave her a cheeky grin and said, “Can’t help that you’re so irresistible.”

“This is exactly why we need to talk. What is going on with you?”

He squeezed her waist with his large, slender hands and shrugged.

“Don’t you play coy, Draco Malfoy,” she whispered, narrowing her eyes at his nonchalant behaviour. “Up until last night you were hellbent on dying before even laying a finger on me, and now this? I don’t buy it.”

“Up until last night, you hated me,” he retorted.

“I never hated you!” she cried out and threw her hands up in frustration. “How many times do I have to say this? Maybe back in third year, when you were a little shit, but I haven’t hated you in a long time.”

“Right, as if you didn’t think I was a little shit just last week,” he drawled, his quicksilver eyes sparkling with amusement.

Hermione wanted to be angry, she really did, but it was so hard when he was being so…so… _ like this _ . This was the part of Draco Malfoy that hid behind his intimidating, brooding hard shell, and yet, somehow, he felt safe enough to show her. She didn’t underestimate the value of this entire moment and his vulnerability was a balm to the fear that had been quelling in her gut from the moment she woke up.

She shook her head, fighting the pull of her corners of her mouth as she tried to hold in a fond smile.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” She sighed as he chuckled in response. “Look, I’m just… I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

“Well I’m trying to seduce you and you are trying to make serious talk instead,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Right… that. Why are you trying to - er, seduce me?” 

“The real question here is why aren’t you trying to seduce me?”

“You’ve lost your mind,” she remarked and shook her head disbelievingly.

He shrugged and said off-handedly, “Nearly dying does that to you.”

She scowled at that but then asked softly, “You’re okay now, right?”

Another shrug. “More or less.” Then he added with a wicked smirk, “You’re stuck with this pretty face for life, Princess.”

“That’s what I don’t understand. You’re not dying anymore, but… but then you… we did the mating, right?”

He nodded, his eyes wary with the expectation of what she was getting at.

“So then you don’t need me. Even your wings are gone. You won’t die anymore and I’m not exactly - or actually even close to - the kind of girl you’d want to fall in love with. What I’m trying to get at here is that I just don’t understand why you’re so willing to act like you want me so much when I know you’re too smart and too… too  _ Malfoy _ to let yourself have less than the best.”

When he didn’t respond and instead stared at her, his expression unreadable, she added in a small voice, “Why are you settling for less than true love? You say this is for our entire lives so how is this any different from an arranged marriage?”

She would never forget the intensity of his mercurial gaze with which he’d looked at her that day in the Head’s common room. The possessive lilt of his voice was embedded into her soul and her heart thrummed to the mere memory of it.

_ “Marriage is a sacred union of two souls. It’s an Unbreakable Vow and not even death can do you part. You’re binding your soul to another, the kind of ancient magic that transcends mortality or any other institution. If your witch is unhappy, you don’t just let her walk away. No, you uphold your vows and destroy the cause of her misery.” _

If he noticed the blood pooling along the surface of her cheeks, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he surveyed her anxious demeanour and lost expression for the longest of seconds. Her confusion only multiplied when he suddenly lifted her by the hips and set her aside. 

She watched with wide eyes as he got to his feet and grabbed his wand, waving it around a couple of times until they were both dressed - him in a green silk bathrobe and her in his shirt. Then, he reached for her hand and led her out of his room wordlessly.

Hermione had been too nervous to take in her surroundings when she arrived with Snape, and now, looking around, she found herself stunned by the opulence. Everything - literally everything - gleamed and instilled within her a fear of touching anything in case of leaving fingermarks. She opened her mouth several times to ask where he was taking her but the determined look on his face kept her quiet and she let him pull her along.

The halls were quiet in the early hours of the morning and Hermione thanked her lucky stars that they didn’t run into any of the other inhabitants of the Manor as she followed Malfoy out of his personal wing. They went up sweeping staircases and down vast halls for what seemed like forever, but was really minutes. In the foreboding atmosphere of wonder, her heart wouldn’t rest and she was sure his Veela hearing could pick it up.

It was at a narrow oak doorway that they came to a pause, beyond it a room that was hidden well in the depths of the mansion. Catching her gaze, he raised her hand that he was holding and pressed the centre of her palm against the ancient wood. Her fingers twitched as magic crackled beneath her splayed-out fingers and she bit her lip at the heat that spread from his skin to hers and then throughout her body like a live wire.

A gasp fell from her lips when the edges of the doorway glowed red and then it swung open to reveal an antechamber. The torches lining the walls flared to life, basking the circular room in an orange glow.

“It… feels old,” she finally said in a hushed voice.

“It’s as old as any part of the Manor.,” He nodded. “Built with the initial foundations.”

“I’d expect a room like this to be covered in dust,” she admitted.

“Kippy cleans it obsessively and won’t allow any of the other elves to even come in here.” At her aghast expression, he added, “His ancestors helped build the mansion.”

“That’s slave labour,” she hissed.

“Down, kitten. This isn’t the time nor place to discuss my house of staff,” he drawled with a roll of his eyes.

She huffed and gave him a dirty look full of promises for a revisit to the topic in the near future, but then let him pull her to the far end of the room. A giant tapestry covered every inch of the stone wall and around it hovered dozens of golden sparkles. The tapestry itself was as dark as the night’s sky and it was adorned by golden thread that wove together to form a glowing tree.

“What - the?” Her mouth fell open at the tiny floating orbs and she turned to him questioningly to find him watching her with a soft smile.

“Wish fairies. They are born each time a member of the family makes a wish with their whole heart and soul.”

“Oh.” She blinked and then giggled when one of them came close to the tip of her nose. She could make out the faintest outline of a pair of wings within the glow. “I’ve never even heard of them.”

He shrugged. “They tend to hang around ancient tapestries, usually for families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

Noticing the sparkle of curiosity in her eyes and knowing she could ask him all the questions in the world without getting tired, he nudged her towards the tapestry. 

The hand that wasn’t holding hers reached out to touch one of the newer branches on the tapestry. He traced the letters of his mother’s name before turning back to Hermione.

“Growing up, I would spend a lot of time in this room. I’d sit here and stare at this for hours, just taking in all the lives that had to play out, all the people that had to come together for me to exist at this point in time. If I wasn’t in the library or flying outside, then this is where I could be found.”

She smiled at the thought of Malfoy as a tiny blond boy, all mischievous eyes and endearing smirks.

“The Malfoy bloodline is one of the oldest and in it resides an ancient magic. This tapestry weaves itself in every moment from when a Malfoy is conceived to when his magic intertwines with that of another’s. I did a lot of research on it but wasn’t able to find much. One thing, though, my great-great grandmother is certain that Veela magic is intertwined with the Malfoy magic. That would certainly explain a lot.”

Hermione frowned, unsure of where he was going with this, but her curiosity was too strong for her to interrupt. He noticed the keen sparkle in her eyes and smiled wistfully.

“I’ve only ever incited the creation of two wish fairies in all of my years. The first was well into my childhood on the night of a full moon. A thunderstorm was raging a battle in the sky and I lay in my bed, clutching my stuffed dragon. I was terrified of the loud sounds but too prideful to seek out my mother when I knew my father would be nearby. Out of that fear was born two things. The first was another bout of accidental magic, these glowing blue orbs of light. The other was a desire, a wish that rose from the very depths of my soul.”

He turned to face her completely and grabbed her other hand as well. His grip was firm and he looked her straight in the eyes as he spoke, “I wished for a love to hold on to on nights such as those. I wished to not die alone, without knowing the embrace of true love. I wished for a witch to call my own.”

Hermione’s heart shuttered to a stop, slamming against her ribcage painfully before plummeting to her feet. She gaped at him and wondered if it would be considered rude to pinch herself. This had to be some bizarre, Veela pheromone-induced dream.

“Do you know the one thing magic absolutely cannot create?” he asked, his head cocked to the side as he surveyed her flushed cheeks.

She shook her head mutely.

“Love,” he whispered, the edges of his mouth turning up in the slightest. “It’s love. Magic cannot create love.”

“But—” Hermione began to say but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“You’re under the impression that a Veela bond forces the Veela to believe it is in love with its mate, but that is not how it works. The bond merely brings together two souls who belong with each other. There is nothing truer than the love between a Veela and his mate.”

She swallowed hard and willed her hands to stop trembling in his hold.

“And if that isn’t proof enough for you,” he turned her back towards the tapestry and brought one of her hands up to his name. The impression of his face above it smirked back at them, but her attention was on the cluster of fairies dancing beside it. As he nudged her hand towards the fairies they scattered to reveal a very familiar face.

A gasp fell from her lips as they parted in surprise and he found himself distracted by their delectable cherry hue. Her shock had struck his spine like a bolt of lightening but he doubt she noticed him stiffening. Her knowledge-hungry eyes were wide as they stared at the cursive font that spelled out  _ Hermione Malfoy _ . 

Taking advantage of her stunned silence, he let go of her other hand to reach up and trace the shimmering thread that extended from his name to intertwine with hers. It gleamed brighter than any of the other threads in the entire tapestry and the fairies seemed to be drawn to it.

“I hadn’t been back here since I left for school and when I returned this week, I had no intention of facing the legacy that would end with me. Mother, however, was insistent that I come see it for myself and you can imagine how shocked I was to see the words  _ Hermione Granger  _ beside mine.”

At this, she swallowed hard and turned to him to say in a frantic whisper, “This - this doesn’t say Granger.”

He nodded solemnly, feeling his own body absorb the panic hers was emanating. “Yesterday, the thread connecting our names was light enough that you had to bring your face up close to even see it. I wondered if it was because the magic of the tapestry knew that it was a union that would never come to be. Then you, the crazy brave witch that you are, came into the very home that you were imprisoned in just to save my life. You’re the poster girl for Gryffindor, you know that, Granger?”

Ignoring his words, she asked, “Why does it say Malfoy?”

“Right, well, what I believe happened, and this is pure speculation because I’ve never seen it happen before, is that when we mated, the ancient magic of the House of Malfoy recognized the eternal bond. The bond of a Veela and his mate is transcends traditional wedding vows. It is the only thing that can break the Unbreakable vow, which is essentially what a Wizarding wedding vow is.”

He wasn’t surprised to feel her shock melt into an icy fear as she whispered, “Does that -?” she swallowed hard. “Does that mean we’re m-married?”

He didn’t respond right away, instead taking a moment to watch her carefully. Glued to the tapestry, her gaze wouldn’t meet his and for some reason, this irritated him. 

“Does it matter? Even if it doesn’t now, we will be one day.”

Her head whipped around so fast that an audible crack echoed throughout the room and she made an odd sort of choking noise. He sighed at her pathetic attempts to formulate a response and interrupted her spluttering with, “We’re not married.”

“Oh!” she squeaked out.

“Technically.”

She started. “Oh.”

“For the love of Salazar, woman. If the concept of being Mrs. Malfoy is so horrific to you then why’d you agree to mate with me?”

“I never actually agreed,” she retorted, regaining some of her fire.

His irritation flared and he snapped. “You willingly came to the Manor to save my arse. You knew what you were getting into.”

She opened and closed her mouth several times, struggling to come up with a counter argument. 

“Fair enough.” She nodded slowly.

Feeling her confusion as strongly as his own, he let out a heavy breath and said quietly, “You wished to know why I’m not fighting this anymore. This is the reason why.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“The door to this room only opens upon recognizing the magic of a Malfoy,” he explained. “When I saw your name on the tapestry, it was a moment of reckoning for me. I knew whole-heartedly that we’re meant to be together, if the Veela bond wasn’t proof enough. Our souls truly are intertwined, so much that one of the most powerful ancient magic recognized it.”

The moment of silence that followed his words was heavy and his hold on her one hand tightened.

“Then why did you stay away?” she asked in a small voice.

Now was the moment that he needed to feel her in his arms more than ever, but instead he let go and walked over to the arched window. It was enchanted to show the small pond that was on the far end of the property. With his back to her, he watched a family of ducks swimming around before replying.

“You deserve better,” he whispered, but she heard him as clearly as if he were standing beside her. “I couldn’t force you to be with me, regardless of the fact that we belong together. Soulmates we might be, but I never wished to trap you into a life with a Death Eater.”

He didn’t hear her respond, leaving his heart aching. Already his body was throbbing with the urge to mate with her again, but the pain of feeling her sadness was enough to contain his desire. He prepared for her to leave the room, to storm away at the unfairness of it all and leave him to his fate. He would jump off the highest tower at the Manor if she left him - it would be the least agonizing way to cope with his heartbreak.

Draco jumped when he felt two arms wrap around his waist from behind. So lost in his morose thoughts he was that he didn’t even hear her approach. Her addicting scent permeated his senses and he couldn’t keep himself from inhaling deeply while relishing the weight of her body against his.

“Ex-Death Eater.” Her words were a mere whisper, sending a shiver down the length of his spine.

“My hands are stained red.”

“I know.”

Draco clenched his eyes shut tighter against the tears that threatened to fall. Those two words were solemn but filled with more acceptance than he’d ever expected to receive. They filled him with the most dangerous emotion of all - hope.

* * *

 

“What do you mean Hermione isn’t at Hogwarts?”

To her credit, McGonagall didn’t flinch at the volume at which Ron spoke and instead levelled him with a severe look.

“Precisely as I said, Mr. Weasley. Your friend has duties which require her attention elsewhere for the next few days.”

“She - she can’t just -”

The transfiguration professor’s frosty expression withered and seeing this, Harry jumped in hastily. 

“What Ron means to say is that it is unlike her to leave like this. She would’ve told us beforehand. She knows we’ll worry,” he said pleadingly.

Nodding, she replied, “The circumstances are such that she didn’t get a chance to inform anyone.”

“What are those circumstances?”

“That is Miss Granger’s business, Mr. Potter. You’ll have to take it up with her when she returns. Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I have papers to grade and you have papers to write.”

“This sucks!” Harry exclaimed when the door to McGonagall’s office closed behind them.

“Tell me about it.” Ron groaned. “Why the hell would Hermione leave so suddenly and why wouldn’t she tell us?”

“It’s definitely suspicious. Doesn’t sound like her at all,” Harry said and then scowled. Glancing down at his watch, he sighed. “We better run. We won’t be able to find out where Hermione went if Snape skins us alive for being late.”

Snape turned out to be in a foul mood, as evident by his slamming the door behind himself when he walked in five minutes late and snarling, “Quiet down!” 

“What crawled up his butt and suffocated?” Ron whispered but not quietly enough.

The potions master swooped down over him like a bat and sneered. “Twenty points from Gryffindor! You can all thank Weasley for being an incompetent fool who cannot follow even a simple direction such as  _ shut up _ !”

Even the Slytherins looked on edge, for once unsure of their immunity in the face of the only professor who didn’t dislike them on principle. Reluctant to bring attention to himself, Harry edged over to Snape’s desk once he’d finished giving instructions for the day. He recoiled at the sour glare the hook-nosed man gave him but took a heavy breath and said, “Sir, Hermione is absent so -”

“Yes, Potter, I may not have glasses but I can see well enough to figure that much out for myself.”

“Er, of course, sir.”

“Don’t try to butter me up.”

“Right. Sorry, sir.”

Parkinson stepped up to the desk beside Harry and ignoring him, said, “Professor, Draco is my partner.”

“He won’t be back for a several days, Ms. Parkinson, so in that case, you and Potter can partner up.”

“What?”

“Never!”

“Sir, she’s a nightmare!”

“He’s the fucking Chosen One!”

“She’s -”

“But he -”

“SILENCE! I don’t care who is what. The two of you will be working together and that is final. Both of you need to act more like the adults you are instead of the immature imbeciles you emulate.”

Both equally dejected and annoyed, Harry turned to her with an open mouth but the words died on his lips when he saw that she was already stomping back to her cauldron.

“We’re working at my desk. I won’t move,” she called out over her shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, Harry stomped over to his desk to gather his stuff, muttering under his breath about uptight, dark-haired Slytherins. Ron gave him a sympathetic look and wished him luck out of the corner of his mouth, well aware that Snape was looking in their direction.

“Do hurry up your lazy arse, Potter,” Parkinson drawled when he trudged over to her.

Much to his surprise, she had already gathered most of the ingredients needed for their potion and was currently heating up the cauldron. Harry had been fully prepared to do all the work while the Slytherin Ice Queen lounged about. Taken aback, it took him a moment to gather his wits and grudgingly head to the storage room to gather the remaining ingredients.

“Add two grams of dried nettle leaves and stir clockwise thrice,” she recited without looking at her textbook.

“I didn’t realize you were so adept at potions,” Harry remarked without thinking as he immediately followed her directions.

Parkinson pressed her lips together into a thin line, her expression critical but repressed. She seemed to be holding back, a barb or an insult of some sort, Harry guessed. He couldn’t imagine her being able to go more than two minutes before spewing her toxic thoughts.

“I’ve made this potion countless times in the past few years,” she finally admitted.

Harry glanced down at the textbook and paled at the title of the potion they were making - ‘Antidote for Side Effects of the Cruciatus Curse.’

Reading the expression on his face accurately as pity, she scowled. “Besides, did you think Granger was the only one around here with brains?”

Harry sighed with relief when the bell rang an hour later and haphazardly threw his belongings into his bag in his rush to get away from Parkinson. There was only so much time he could spend around the dark-haired girl and resist the urge to strangle her.

“Harry! Wait up!”

He paused mid-stride, looking over his shoulder to see Ron rushing to catch up with him. Once he did, Harry resumed his quick steps and said, “Let’s talk in the common room.”

“So what happened?” Ron asked when they finally settled down in the couches before the fire. The common room was empty since it was just the afternoon and everyone was at lunch now.

“She just unnerves me,” Harry admitted in a low voice. “And I’m not just talking about the fact that she tried to hand me over to Voldemort.”

“I pity you having to work with her. Let’s just hope Malfoy comes back sooner rather than later and then you won’t have to deal with her,” Ron pointed out.

“About that—” Harry cocked his head, his brows furrowed in concentration. “What are the odds that Hermione and Malfoy are absent at the same time?”

“Do you think he did something to her?”

“Doesn’t seem like it if McGonagall knows where Hermione is, but you have to admit those two have been acting weird lately,” Harry remarked with a frown. “Ron, she took the invisibility cloak to sneak into the Hospital Wing to see Malfoy. When I found her she’d been crying over the git.”

“What the bloody hell is wrong with her? Do you think he imperioused her? Maybe that’s why she’s been ignoring me lately?”

“No, Ron. She’s been ignoring you because you’re being a prat,” Harry corrected him with a roll of his eyes.

Ron frowned, but in the wake of his best friend’s absence, he decided to hold off on commenting and instead focused on the problem at hand.

“Do you think Malfoy’s friends might know something?” Ron wondered.

“If they do, they aren’t likely to tell us,” Harry said.

“Well it’s worth a shot. Grab your cloak and map, Harry. Who knows what that prat is doing to her?”

* * *

 

“Your pureblood ancestors are probably turning in their graves,” Hermione remarked as they straightened up on the couch.

Unsurprisingly, they hadn’t even made it out of the room housing the Malfoy tapestry before their mating urges became unbearable. Narcissa had put in this couch years ago for Draco so that he wouldn’t spend hours lying on the floor of the centuries-old room and he doubted she ever imagined it would be put to use in such a way.

Hermione paused in her buttoning up of his shirt, her lips parting soundlessly as she looked down at her fingers with confusion.

“Didn’t - didn’t I rip the buttons off last night?”

“Probably, Anya,” he mumbled with a slight shrug, struggling to pull his eyes away from her. The sight of Hermione in his shirt was still affecting him as if he hadn’t fucked her into the antique couch for the course of two overwhelming orgasms. Before she could ask about  _ Anya _ , he reached for her hand to pull her up. “Come on. Let’s get some food in you. What’s your favourite breakfast item?”

“What… uh… what about your parents?”

“I’m assuming Snape informed them of your arrival. If he hasn’t then I’m sure they would’ve dropped by my wing to collect my body by now.”

She rolled her eyes at that.

“Regardless, they know to keep their distance for the next few days,” he continued.

Her brows furrowed. “Wait. Why?”

He stopped short in his steps and eyed her incredulously.

“Do you not remember the debacle in the Hospital Wing? I nearly ripped the throats out of our professors and friends.”

“Er… but that was before.”

Her confusion was adorable, weirdly enough.

“And now we are newly mated. I cannot let another man near my mate, not when she’s in heat like this.”

“In heat?” she shrieked, grabbing his arm and staring at him with bulging eyes.

“We both are. Hence why we aren’t able to go longer than a few moments without ripping each other’s clothes off.” When she continued to gape at him and dig her nails into his skin, he sighed and added, “You seriously need to read up on Veela mating culture.”

“It sounds so…  _ animalistic _ ,” she frowned, pretending she didn’t know that she was blushing heavily.

Draco shrugged before grinning lasciviously at her. “I know. If you’re referring to the fact that I want to mount you like a bull, then most definitely.”

“Draco!”

He dodged her smack to the shoulder and barked out a laugh. He gripped her hand tightly as he sped up his pace and tugged her along the winding hallways. They finally came to a stop before a set of double doors that reached up to the ceiling. His other hand resting on the doorknob, Draco turned back to Hermione with eyes that glimmered excitedly.

“As much as I want to hole up in my bedroom and have my way with you again, and again, and again… I figured showing you this before rather than after would endear you to me. Now keeping in mind that this is a huge risk I’m taking because the chances of you never coming out of this room are terrifyingly high, I’d like to welcome you to the library of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy,” he announced with a flourish of his arm as he swung the door open.

Hermione’s reaction was comical and just like he imagined. The pretty brown of her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, forcing him to adjust himself discreetly as his mind flickered to all that he could fill that pouty little mouth of hers with. She wouldn’t have noticed regardless, he suspected, considering the way she was entranced by the rows upon rows of books that towered over them. She slowly walked over to the nearest shelf and began reading all the titles. He cleared his throat to catch her attention but she didn’t hear him.

“Hermione,” he called out.

She stumbled in her steps and looked back at him in surprise. “You called me Hermione.”

He shrugged, pretending the tips of his ears weren’t burning, and said, “You called me Draco, just now. Besides, isn’t it a bit weird to call your soulmate and lover by their surname?”

“Okay, you’re freaking me out by nonchalantly throwing around the ’s’ word,” she said, blood pooling in her cheeks and her eyes flitting around nervously.

“Immersion, darling. If I say it enough times, you and I both will come to terms with it much quicker.”

“Fair enough,” she muttered.

“I’ll have the elves remove any books that might harm you, but that’ll take a few days,” he said, reaching out for her hand and pulling her away from the shelves.

“Harm me?” she repeated hollowly before understanding struck. “Of course you Malfoys would have books that curse any Muggleborns that touch them.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her derisive tone and said, “You Malfoys? You remember the tapestry, don’t you?”

“I’m not a Malfoy,” she insisted.

“Debatable.” He gave her a severe look. “But you are family.”

She scoffed,” I’m sure your parents will just love that.”

She let him lead her back to his bedroom, where he proceeded to draw her a bath in his Olympic-sized tub. Judging by the smouldering looks he was giving her, she had a feeling she was about to get very dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’ve missed you all so much and I’m so glad to be getting back into writing. Thank you so much to my new Beta, **CourtingInsanity** , who is absolutely amazing! I’m also really excited to see what you think of their developing relationship! Let me know your thoughts in the reviews and I can’t wait to hear from you!! Lots of love :)


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